Little-girl Emma had her big sister, her grandparents, and her mom and dad. Soon after this photo was taken, something changed everything for that little girl—even before Annie died. For the first time in my life, I was desperate to know what had torn us all apart when we needed each other the most.
My brain began to whir. The farm hadn’t left my thoughts sincethe will reading. The idea of living on the farm was far-fetched a week ago, but now there was nothing stopping me. There were too many questions that needed answers. What happened to my family when Annie died? Who were my grandparents that I could barely remember anymore, yet were so beloved by the town? If they were such great people, could my parents have really been okay keeping their grandchildren from them? Why in the world would they choose me, someone they barely knew, to bear the responsibility of a place that I have no idea how to manage? The obvious solution would have been to give it to Dan. He seemed a lot more capable—and certainly more beloved by the people in town. My thoughts turned to how capable he was of taking care of me that night.
Yes, he was bold and obnoxious, but I’d never been taken care of like that before by anyone. Especially not by Teddy.
Yes—I needed answers. I wasn’t going to get them from my mother. I thought of Preston Smith, Teddy, and even Max and Becks telling me that I couldn’t run a farm, but what the hell did they know? Spending my life caring what everyone thought about me got me to this point, so maybe it was time I stopped. Also, maybe I needed another one of Dan’s grilled chicken-and-cheese sandwiches.
I jumped to my feet, ran to my room, and packed my own duffel bag. Several times while shoving various articles of clothing into my bag—what the hell does one wear on a farm anyway? Definitely nothing I had—I thought of Dan. Would it be okay if I just showed up unannounced? Should I call him first? I don’t even have his number.
I pointed my car toward Green Acres with a thrum of nervous excitement. A small part of me was actually looking forward toseeing Dan again. I convinced myself it was because I wanted to ask him questions about my grandparents, or maybe it was because I wanted him to make me another sandwich. It definitely had nothing to do with the way the muscles in his back flexed when he cooked, or the way his beard twitched when he almost smiled. Then I forced myself to remember how rude and overbearing he was after the will reading. Although my car has been a lot quieter since he insisted I have it fixed.
He doesn’t need to know that.
CHAPTER FOUR
I’d been driving for four hours when my tires crunched over the gravel of my grandparents’—well, I guess, my—driveway. I fished the front door key out of the large manila envelope, where it had sat since the lawyer handed it to me over a week ago.
The door let out a faint creak as I slipped into the large living room. I couldn’t find a light switch, but the curtains were open and the moonlight pouring through the windows illuminated the shelves lined with picture frames. My bag fell to the floor at my feet with a loud thud as I crept closer. The same eerie feeling engulfed me like the last time I was here. A small voice inside my head was whispering that I didn’t belong here, that I was trespassing. I stared at the photos of George and Harriet King, the grandparents I barely knew, who trusted me enough to leave me this farm. They wanted me to carry on a family legacy that spanned three generations but was a complete mystery to me. I reached out to wipe the dust off the picture frame holding my grandparents’wedding photo. The side of my hand slammed into a nearby vase, causing it to teeter.
“Shit!” Reaching out to steady it, I only succeeded in knocking it off the shelf. Luckily, I managed to catch it before it hit the ground.
Before I could congratulate myself on my catlike reflexes, light flooded the living room and a deep voice shouted, “Oi! What the hell are you doing here?”
The scream I let out was punctuated by the sound of glass breaking. I looked down to see the vase that I’d just rescued from certain death now shattered at my feet. I looked up to see Dan Pednekar standing in the doorway to the living room, holding a thick wooden stick over his head and wearing nothing but a pair of black, skintight boxer briefs.
My eyes scanned his body. He stood in front of me dripping wet like he’d just gotten out of the shower. Why was he showering in my grandparents’ house? Why was he in his underwear?
“Dan?” I shrieked.
“Emma?” he said at nearly the same moment before our voices called out in unison:
“What are you doing here?”
“This is my house, remember?” I dropped to my knees and began picking up the large shards of broken glass. He tossed his stick onto the couch and knelt beside me. He smelled like soap and sweat and skin. The muscles in his arms flexed and contracted as he reached for the pieces of shattered vase. I forced myself to focus on the floor. “What the hell are you doing here? And why aren’t you dressed?”
“You may have inherited this house a week ago, but I’ve lived here for nearly two years.” He stood with two handfuls of glasspieces and walked to the kitchen to toss them in the trash. When he returned, he was holding a broom and dustpan.
“I didn’t know you actually livedinthe house,” I said after he shooed me away from the remaining splinters so he could sweep them up. “I thought you were like… a caretaker or something.” I grabbed the dustpan to steady it while he swept in the last of the broken shards, and within moments it was like the broken vase had never existed.
“Thank you. And you’re right on both counts, and if you would have simply asked me, I would have told you.” He walked to the living room, retrieved his stick from the couch, and held it loosely at his side.
“So the night I stayed here. You were sleeping here, too?” I had turned my back to him in order to focus and scanned the many picture frames displayed in the room. It didn’t matter that Dan wasn’t in my direct line of sight. The memory of his lean, chiseled physique was burned into my memory.
“Yeah, that’s how living at a place works,” he responded.
“Why didn’t I see your room when I walked through the house? I must have opened every door.” I shot a quick glance over my shoulder to find him smirking at me with his arms crossed and turned back to the picture frames again.
“I live in the attic. George and Harriet had it renovated for me. So you wouldn’t have seen it while you werewalking throughthe house.” He mimicked my voice again. I turned to look at him and narrowed my eyes. “Now, answer my question,” he said with a raised eyebrow. “What are you doing here in the middle of the night?”
My stomach tightened at his question. I wasn’t entirely sure Iknew the answer myself, but since I now owned the farm, I couldn’t avoid it forever.
“Would you mind putting on some clothes first? It’s a little… distracting.” My eyes flicked to his chest, then to the ceiling.
He let out a sigh before turning toward the stairs, but I could have sworn he was smiling.
“Is that seriously how you always make tea?” I asked from my seat at the kitchen table. He’d just finished spooning the loose leaves into the pot and pouring in the first half of the boiling water before turning to face me.
“Are you always this critical of people doing something nice for you?” A smile I couldn’t suppress crept across my face and Dan responded in kind.
