Mr. McReedy kept reading, but I couldn’t focus on anything he said after I heard that my grandparents had left me a farm, hoping that I would—what, live there? Run it?
A farm? What the hell was I supposed to do with a farm? If Green Acres was such a special place to so many people, why did my grandparents trust me to take care of it?
I was avoiding looking at houses because I didn’t want the responsibility of mowing a lawn. Teddy and I didn’t have any pets because I couldn’t even keep a goldfish alive, not to mention all the houseplants I’ve massacred over the years. I looked over at Danesh, the farm manager, to see his reaction. He didn’t seem surprised or moved by the announcement. He was still staring at the watch.I took a deep breath and turned my attention back to my grandparents’ attorney. He’d moved on to bequeathing items and property to the other people in the office and I barely paid attention.
Soon the reading was over, and I was holding a manila envelope stuffed with a thick file folder full of documents that represented the last three generations of my family, feeling more exhausted and confused than ever.
A man in a dark blue suit approached me as soon as I stepped outside of the church. “Hi, Emmaline Walters?”
“Um, yes. Emma,” I corrected him as I tried to make a beeline for my car. He blocked my path.
“Emma, of course. I’m so sorry for your loss.” He screwed up his face in an odd facsimile of a sorrowful expression. He looked like a child pretending to cry. It would have been funny if it weren’t so off-putting.
“Thank you,” I said brusquely. I’d dealt with men like him in my profession. He wanted something and it wasn’t to offer his condolences. “Can I help you with something?”
“Actually”—his expression changed to a megawatt grin that made my stomach roil—“I’m pretty sure I can help you.”
I had just left a will reading for the grandparents I barely remembered, inherited a farm, and realized that I’d flashed the farm’s manager before yelling at him—and I still had to make the four-hour drive back to Atlanta on a donut because I hadn’t had the time to replace the spare tire, and, speaking of donuts, I was still hungry. A creep in a cheap suit was the last thing I needed.
“No, thank you. I have to go.” I turned to leave, and the man grabbed my arm and pushed his business card into my hand.
“Take my card,” he said quickly, “and give me a call.”
I rolled my eyes and shoved the card into my pocket, not wanting to deal with any more drama tonight.
As I got closer to my car, I saw a large figure leaning on the hood with his arms crossed.
It was Danesh Pednekar, farm manager, grandson that George and Harriet King never had, and sexy British bathroom guy.
“Friend of yours?” His deep voice rumbled in my chest making me stop short a few steps from my car.
“No… Like everyone else in this town, I have no idea who he is.”
He stood there for a few seconds, surveying me like he had in the bathroom. It made me nervous, and I wondered if he was picturing me in my underwear.
“So you’re Emmaline…” He said it in a way that made me believe he’d been expecting to meet me. What had my grandparents told him about me? Then I remembered that his opinion of me had no bearing; so why did I still care?
“It’s Emma.” I bristled and hit the button on my car keys to unlock the doors, making a loud beeping sound. He took the hint and stepped away from my car so I could reach the driver’s side door. “Danesh, was it?” I raised an eyebrow, causing him to smirk.
“It’s Dan.” He took a step toward me, making my breath catch in my throat, and I almost dropped the envelope I was holding. His hand grazed my back, causing me to shiver as I heard the telltale sound of a zipper and felt my dress tighten around my chest. “That… has been driving me mad.” He took a step back. We stood in the parking lot staring at each other. I couldn’t read Dan’s expression, and I was uncharacteristically speechless. Usually, I wouldknow the perfect thing to say, always two steps ahead of anyone in a conversation, but in that moment, I was completely unarmed. I blamed it on the exhaustion.
“Well, I should get going.” I realized that while I had been staring at Dan in the parking lot, I had forgotten to breathe, as well as speak. I opened my driver’s side door and threw the envelope and my purse on the passenger seat.
“I don’t think you should drive anywhere with this.” Just like in the bathroom, his suggestion seemed innocent. But for some reason, his voice made everything sound like an invitation to sex. I tried to think back to the last time I had sex with Teddy. Then I had to think further back to the last time Ienjoyedsex with Teddy. Those thoughts were beyond inappropriate, and I needed to get back to Atlanta because I had an early-morning meeting. I also needed some distance from this town and from Dan, the sexy, mysterious farm manager, so I could make sense of the last few hours.
“Well, thank you for your concern, but I have a busy day tomorrow. It was nice to meet you.” I tried to pull my car door closed, but he grabbed the doorframe and pulled it back open. “What the hell are you—”
“You can’t drive in the middle of the night on a stepney.”
“What the hell is a—”
“I believe you call it a donut.” He cut me off with a hint of annoyance and tilted his head at the miniature wheel holding up one fourth of my car.
“I’ll be fine. I’ll get a new tire tomorrow.” I tried to pull my door shut again, but Dan’s hand didn’t move.
“Listen, I’m sure you think you can handle everything on yourown, but it’s late, you’re tired”—Oh God, did I look as exhausted as I felt? A quick glance in my rearview said yes. But how dare he mention it? I was about to argue when my stomach gave a loud growl—“and apparently you’re also hungry.” He tried to stifle a smile, which only made my cheeks flame with heat. We glared at each other. My hand was on the door handle while his was still wrapped around the doorframe. We were at a standoff. “Get out of the car, Emma,” he said sternly. His tone of voice let me know he wasn’t going to ask again, and I wondered what that meant. I wondered why I liked it. “Please,” he added with a softened, but still stern, expression.
I heaved a deep sigh, climbed out of the driver’s seat, and stood in front of him, eyebrows raised. His expression didn’t change as he guided me around to the passenger seat and helped me into my own car. He climbed into the driver’s seat, pushed the seat all the way back, and started the engine.
