The idea of leaving was tempting. He didn’t want to stay. Could hardly stand the thought of twenty-nine more days like today.
His legs and back ached, and now that he wasn’t thirsty anymore, all he wanted was to eat and fall into bed.
Except he didn’t have a bed.
He wanted to throttle Lynette, but it wasn’t her fault. He was the idiot who had agreed to it. She just came up with the idea.
He kept flipping his phone, feeling like the roll and flip was the way his mind was working. Should he stay? Should he leave? Yes. No.
Finally, he decided he could at least go shower.
IVORY SET THE LAST super back in the beehive and closed up for the day. She was a little late this year getting things set up, but for a little bit of work and a little bit of a drive heading to Springfield, she could sell her honey and make a nice, tidy profit on it. It wasn’t something that took a lot of money for her to invest on the front end, and most of what she made was profit.
It was definitely worth her effort, even in spring when everything demanded her attention.
Unlike a lot of the other ventures on her farm. She only had so much time and could only do so much.
Plus, she loved working with bees.
She noticed Chandler quit at five, like he said he was going to. It irritated her in a way she couldn’t explain, but she couldn’t blame him. She’d had plenty of time to think all day, and an eight-hour workday for him seemed reasonable. It wasn’t his farm and wasn’t his business. She couldn’t expect him to work like it was.
On the other hand, she shouldn’t have to cut him any slack.
In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she thought she’d been right this morning that it would be better if he left. He had gotten a lot done today and hadn’t messed around, much to her surprise. But still, the stress that she had keeping an eye on him had kept her from getting as much of her own work done.
All right. If she were being honest, she’d watched him just because she loved watching him. He caught her eye and held it. The beehives were far enough away she couldn’t see the ripples of muscle under his shirt, but she just loved the languid moves, the sure confidence, and for some reason, especially the idea that there was someone else on the farm working beside her.
It was a new feeling, and she really liked it.
Of course Boris had been there at times, but that was slightly different. Boris was more like a beloved father, and he would help her with anything, but he wasn’t necessarily a teammate. He had his own farm and his own life.
Of course, Chandler did too.
Chandler was a distraction she didn’t need. It had been a bad idea from the get-go, and she was going to take care of it. Right now.
After removing her suit, she set her equipment in the shed and made sure everything was in order.
It was about two hundred yards to the shack she lived in. A beautiful walk this time of year. Missouri really showed off in the spring, with the bright green grass, yellow and purple wildflowers, and stunning blue sky.
She enjoyed the walk, thinking that she’d love to build a real house, and she was putting money back for it, but unless things changed in a major way, it would be years before she could afford it.
She was happy with what she had, but she could look at it through Chandler’s eyes and see it for the dump it was. Weathered boards, no furniture, a bed that was just a mattress on top of the chest. She washed her clothes in the creek, and come winter, she didn’t wash them much at all. She was alone enough that nobody cared.
Of course he thought she was a bum. He thought that or worse before he’d even seen the shack or farm.
She reached the house and yanked the door open, intending to tell him that as soon as she fed him, he was leaving.
He stood outlined in the doorway of the bathroom, in jeans and a clean T-shirt. He hadn’t shaved his beard, and his hair was wet and perfectly mussed. His feet were bare.
Ivory’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, which opened and closed like a fish on dry land.
Why could she not get words out of her mouth?
It was another reason that he needed to go. She hated this helpless gawking effect he had on her. It was disappointing to learn, as much as she tried to be different, she was just like every other female in the country.
She put her jaw out and took a breath, intending to force the words if necessary, however she needed, whatever she needed to do to speak.
“I’ll cook supper. Then I’ll take you to town. Your parents’ house or wherever you’re staying.”
His brows shot up, and his hand, which had been running over his wet hair, hooked around the back of his neck. “Huh?”
Maybe she could have said that in a little kinder way. Too late.
“You’re fired.” She closed the door behind her.
“You can’t fire me. I quit.”
She clapped her hands together and then pointed at him. “Ha!” She shook her head. “I knew it. I knew you wouldn’t follow through. I knew you wouldn’t stick it out. You couldn’t. You can’t. You never could.”
Okay. She was gloating. She tried to school her features.
“You just fired me.” His eyes narrowed like he thought she’d played him. Maybe she had, but she hadn’t meant to.
“You quit.” Her smirk twitched at the edges of her lips.
“I’m not quitting. I’ll work the next twenty-nine days just like I said I would.”
“You just said you were going to quit.”
“You said you were firing me.”
“But I don’t have to fire you because you quit.”
His voice raised. “I said I’m not quitting. If you don’t want me here, you’re going to have to fire me. Go ahead. Do it.”
She put her hands on her hips. “No. I won’t. If you want off the hook, you’re gonna have to quit.”
“I can keep saying it until you understand. I’m not quitting.”
She shook her head, hating to admit it, but she was confused. She’d walked in, determined to get rid of him, and then she was determined to prove that he was quitting, and now she was determined to not fire him, no matter what.
What, exactly, had happened?
Stepping farther into the house, she pulled her sleeves up. Her back hurt, and her feet begged to be taken out of her boots. But she needed to cook supper. The sooner she did that, the sooner she could get rid of the man sitting in front of her, and the sooner she could have some privacy and peace and quiet.
Maybe her frustration showed in her movements, because she clanked the pot full of potatoes as she set it on the stove and turned the burner on. She jerked the faucet as she twisted the handle to wash her hands. The old towel snapped and crackled as she dried her hands on it and shoved it back into its place. This was her stupidity.
Why did she think it was a good idea to have Chandler Hudson here of all people?
“Is there something I can do to help you?” Chandler had moved across the room, quiet in his bare feet, and his voice just a foot from her shoulder startled her.
“No. You can sit at the table. I’ll have supper on in thirty minutes or so.” She needed the potatoes to boil. Once that was done, she could mash them. “I’m taking a shower first.” She could be in and out before they boiled.
She grabbed clothes, hurrying because she didn’t want to be stuck with Chandler one minute more than necessary.
Chandler hadn’t moved from his spot at the table when she walked back out, and she ignored him, checking and stirring the potatoes which were boiling, and grabbing some broth from the slow cooker for gravy.
After about five minutes of heavy silence, he said, “I don’t understand why you’re so hostile.”
Her eyes opened wide, and it was all she could do not to whip around and lay into him. Did he not even remember the things he’d said to her? The hurtful, ignorant, nasty comment he had made in one of the most difficult times in her life?
But as
she thought about it, she had to believe he didn’t even know. She was sure she had done horrible things when she was a kid, things she didn’t remember anymore. That didn’t excuse it, but it did explain it to some extent.
She gritted her teeth. “Maybe I just don’t like having people in my house.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have bid on me yesterday.”
“That’s the first thing I’ve ever heard you say that I think you might be right about.”
“Be careful. You keep agreeing with me, and you might start looking like me too.”
“I can’t think of anything that could make me sadder.”
Maybe she was angry. Definitely she was angry. But later, she wasn’t sure if that was why she was also clumsy, or if it was just because she was disconcerted that he was there. Whatever it was, she went to pull the potatoes off the stove and drain them in the sink. She’d done it a hundred times and never had a problem, but she yanked the pot, jerking it, and boiling hot water splashed out and landed on her jeans, soaking through and burning her leg.
She couldn’t help it; she screamed and slammed the pot back down on the stove. Water splashed out again, landing on her wrist. Now her wrist and her leg were burning. She danced around some, trying to pull her jeans away from her leg.
“Get them off. Get the material away from your leg.” Chandler had jumped up and rushed over. His hands yanked on her waistband, trying to get her jeans pulled down.
“Stop it!” She slapped his hands away, but in the process, she hit her burned wrist against his hairy arm, and she yelped again. The scraping on top of the burn hurt even worse.
Only a few seconds had gone by, and her leg and pants were still burning. He was right, the jeans needed to go.
With her wrist and the back of her hand hurting, and maybe from the trauma, her hands were shaking, and she couldn’t unbuckle her jeans.
He brushed her hands aside and pulled the clasp, grabbing her jeans and yanking them down her legs. Immediately the cool air against the wetness on her leg made it feel better. He grabbed a chair and jerked it out.
“Sit.”
Taking long strides to the freezer room, he came back a moment later with two ice cubes which he put under the spicket before setting one on the back of her hand and thumb, one on her leg. The coolness felt good immediately.
Her T-shirt was big and baggy enough that she felt covered, if not decently. Although she was barely thinking about that, because the throbbing pain felt like it was coming from everywhere on her body at once and made her nerve endings feel frazzled.
“Are those the only two places?”
“Yes.” She snapped her mouth shut before she opened it again and said grudgingly, “Thank you.”
He grumbled something. Maybe it was “you’re welcome,” but it didn’t sound that way. She hated being beholden to him, but she knew she was, although she probably wouldn’t have spilled the water if he hadn’t been there.
“Do you have an aloe vera plant?”
“No.” She didn’t bother to say “look around, do you see one?”
She felt like it though. But she’d been mean, and look where it got her. She didn’t think God was necessarily punishing her, but maybe he was using this to get her attention. She hadn’t been acting the way she should. No matter what he’d done to her, it wasn’t any excuse for her to be an ignorant jerk. Because one big jerk was bad enough; she didn’t have any excuse to make it two.
She closed her eyes and whispered an apology to the Lord. Then she opened them and sucked a breath in to say an even harder apology.
“I’m sorry I was unkind to you.”
He seemed to study the ice cube she held for a bit before he spoke without looking up at her. “It seems like you’re angry at me for something. And I’m not sure what I did.”
She swallowed, somehow more conscious that her T-shirt only covered her to mid-thigh and her jeans were around her ankles. The ice cube moved slowly over her burn, and she concentrated on not letting it slip out of her hand. “Doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago, and it’s no excuse for me to be unkind now. I appreciate your help today and just now. You’re free to go if you want.”
“I told you I wasn’t quitting.”
“That’s fine. Then don’t.”
He pulled another chair out and took the ice cube from her hand. She couldn’t hold one on her leg and on her wrist and hand at the same time.
“I’ll get this one. You do the leg. Tell me if I leave it on too long.”
She nodded. Until this point, she hadn’t even considered crying. This kindness, and the gentleness with which he held her hand, made her eyes want to tear up. More than anything else that had happened. She sucked in a couple of deep breaths.
“Tell me what I did. Must’ve been pretty bad.” A vein throbbed in his forehead, but he didn’t look at her.
“I thought it was.” She swallowed against the brick in her throat, pretty sure she had her eyes under control but keeping them turned down just the same. “But I guess we all make mistakes.”
“No. I know I was a jerk when I was younger. Sometimes I’m still a jerk. If you tell me what I did, I can apologize for it.”
“You don’t need to. It won’t change anything anyway.”
“I just saved your life. The least you can do is tell me what I did.”
She jerked her head up. “Saved my life? Someone has an exaggerated sense of their own importance.”
He chuckled a little. “Kidding. It worked to get your attention.” His eyes narrowed. “Tell me.”
She didn’t want to talk about it. It was true; his apology wouldn’t make any difference. And God had been working on her heart, to the point where she knew that she couldn’t keep being angry about it. Maybe she’d only figured that out just now, but whatever. She didn’t want to dredge up those awful and painful memories. But she supposed he deserved to know, not because he just helped her, but because of the way she’d acted. She’d been mean. And a fitting punishment for herself in her opinion was she got to relive the pain.
She picked the ice cube up off her leg, turning it in her hand. “When my half-sister died, no one was very sad about it.”
Lena had been her only sister. Ivory had loved her and had taken care of her since she was a baby. Ivory had been ten years older than Lena, and she felt like her mother sometimes.
“You mean you’re mad at me because I wasn’t sad that your sister died?” His voice held incredulousness.
“No.” She didn’t roll her eyes. She couldn’t blame him for coming to that conclusion, since it took her a while to get the rest of the words out.
“She choked on a hot dog. I was eating with her, and I couldn’t get it out. I couldn’t save her.” She swallowed, fighting back the tears. “She died in my arms. She was the only person in the world who loved me.” She flexed her jaw and put the ice cube back on her leg. The pain was muted as long as the ice cube was on it. Some kind of pain medicine would be necessary, because she’d never sleep tonight with that sharp burning.
“I don’t understand what that has to do with me.”
“When I got on the bus the next morning, because Mom made me go to school, someone said, ‘where’s the other little girl that gets on with her?’ and you said, ‘Who cares? She’s just one more brat in a world that’s full of them. And we’d all be better off without her.’”
Chapter 7
She wasn’t kidding. Chandler knew that he probably actually said that, although he didn’t remember. His chest ached like he’d just run five hard miles and was sucking in cold winter air in big gasps.
He could say he hadn’t known. Of course he hadn’t known her sister died. At least he didn’t think he had. News did travel fast in a small town. But even though he knew he could be a jerk at times, he knew even he wasn’t that much of a donkey’s butt.
“Sorry.” It seemed so inadequate. “That was inexcusably ignorant. And I’m sorry. I don’t know what more I can say. I k
now there’s nothing I can do to make up for it.”
He moved the ice cube on her hand; it already was red and blistered. “We should take you to the hospital for this. Burns can get infected, and then you’re really gonna be in trouble.”
“No.”
She didn’t say anything more, and he assumed, although he did not say, she probably didn’t have insurance.
“Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”
She shook her head. And that nasty, wormy feeling just intensified. Because she was looking down at her leg and wouldn’t even look at him. He didn’t deserve it anyway.
Man, he’d been a jerk.
He held her hand in his, not much bigger than a child’s hand. Was it small because she’d been malnourished as a child?
He wouldn’t have noticed when he was growing up. Kids didn’t notice those things; at least he never had.
And now, he kind of wondered exactly what her life had been like living with the town prostitute. No dad. Or a dad who was drunk all the time. Her dad had died at some point, but he didn’t know when.
Her white blond hair hung on either side of her shoulder—a contrast against her dark T-shirt.
As he sat there, staring at it, feeling awkward and clumsy in the silence, he started to realize how delicate her bone structure was, how small and fragile she looked, almost like a child. And yet she’d outworked him today.
He suspected she could outwork him every day.
He looked around the house with new eyes. Everything was run-down—there was no denying it—but it was neat.
Still, living here would be harsh, and she didn’t look like she could stand up to much of anything.
“How long have you lived here?”
The last he’d heard about her, she lived in town with her mother, who had a room in the back of one of the bars in town. At one point, he thought Ivory’s mother had lived behind each of the three of them. And possibly the Mexican restaurant as well. Depending on her relationship with the owner, or maybe depending on the favors she was providing the owner, making money on the side providing those same favors to others.
Sold! In the Show Me State Page 5