“Emma, it’s not what you’re thinking.” His expression was soft and kind, reminding me of the Dan I thought I’d been getting to know these last few days, the man whose kisses tasted like blueberry muffins and whose warm, calloused hands had roamed my body mere hours ago. I realized Dan was still speaking. “—just put the saucepan down. You’re not gonna be able to do much damage with that thing anyway. I’ll make you a pot of tea, and we’ll talk.”
He almost had me convinced until he took a step forward. He was right; this saucepan wasn’t going to do anything if Dan was really intent on hurting me. I cast my eyes around the room quickly for a more formidable weapon, and I found just the thing.
“Emma,” Dan cautioned, “please be careful with that…” He put his hands up in surrender again and took two steps back, giving us plenty of distance. “That is irreplaceable. If you’re intent on beating the shit out of me with something, I’d prefer if you found something else.” There was real fear in his face as I held his beloved cricket bat over my head. “There’s a perfectly good two-by-four in the corner by the toilet.” He pointed to a small plank of wood resting against the wall next to his bathroom. “Just please, put that down.”
“You are in no position to make demands here,” I screeched. “I knew you were keeping something from me, but I had no idea you were using my grandparents’ farm—which I now own—as a headquarters for some kind of drug operation. How dare you take advantage of the kindness of two people who clearly loved you to—”
“Emma, they knew.”
“—make yourself a—what did you just say?” Dan’s utterancemade every thought in my brain come to a grinding halt. He had to be lying. Maybe I misheard him.
“They knew because they began it. This all started long before I got here.” He put his hands down but didn’t take a step forward, sneaking occasional glances at the cricket bat in my hands. “It was the reason I was hired. Your grandparents needed a horticulturist, and I kind of appeared.” He shrugged. “It was like fate, really.”
“No.” I shook my head. One of the reasons I’d come to this farm was to learn about my grandparents. Discovering that their life was lessLittle House on the Prairieand moreBreaking Badwas too much to handle. I’m a smart person. I’m not just gonna take Dan’s word. “This is a lie. You’re lying.”
“Emma.” He raised an eyebrow. “You said so yourself: The code to the grow room is your sister’s birthday. How would I know that?”
I opened my mouth. Then I closed it and lowered the bat a few inches. Oh my God. He was right. I really didn’t want him to be right. My eyes met Dan’s and they were filled with concern.
That was the moment I knew he was telling me the truth. The last explanation I’d been expecting was now the only one that made sense. It explained how the farm was doing so well financially when, according to Preston Smith, it should’ve been bankrupt. It also explained the town’s odd devotion to my grandparents. Maybe it explained the rift in my family. My mother was so straitlaced that I’d never seen her eat a grape in the supermarket. I couldn’t imagine her being okay with her parents running an illegal drug operation. It also explained Dan’s close relationship with my grandparents. It would involve a lot of trust to put someone in a position like his.
Dan chose that moment to step forward and gently pry the cricket bat out of my clenched fists. I barely resisted as I watched him replace the treasured memento on the two hooks that held it mounted to the wall. He gently wrapped his palm around one of my elbows and guided me to the small couch in his living room.
“Do you want some tea?” he asked in a gentle whisper. My entire body felt numb, but I managed to nod. My mind was racing with questions, and I wasn’t sure I wanted all of them answered. Within a few minutes, my reluctant host returned with a steaming mug and handed it to me.
“Oh, I need—”
“A splash of milk and three sugars?” He raised an eyebrow. “Already done, love.” When Dan wasn’t wielding that word like a dagger, it felt like a warm hug. Lord knows I needed one of those now. He lowered himself onto the other side of the couch and turned to face me. After a few moments, he spoke.
“All right, Emma?” His voice was gentle.
“No.” I shook my head and took a sip of my tea. It was perfect. It annoyed me just how perfect it was because how was I supposed to stay mad at Dan for lying to me when I now knew he was helping my grandparents, was an amazing kisser, and he’d also made me fall in love with tea?
“I know this must be a big shock to you.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” I glared at him.
“Like I said”—he placed a tentative hand on my knee and relaxed his palm when I didn’t move to brush it off—“I was going to tell you… when I thought you’d be ready.”
“And when was that?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “But definitely not at three o’clock in the morning when you’re still injured and most likely caned on pain pills.”
“Caned?” I asked with a skeptical eyebrow.
“High, sweetheart.” His beard twitched slightly. “How is your cut, by the way? I didn’t like the way you were gripping that saucepan.” He took my hand in his and gently stroked the bandages wrapped around my palm. My original intention was to use that saucepan to beat Dan into a pulp, and the whole time he’d been worried about my stitches. How could I have ever thought for a moment that this man was some kind of ruthless kingpin?
“My hand is starting to hurt a little bit,” I confessed. “I could use a good caning.”
Dan’s beard twitch turned into a full-blown chuckle. “Not quite the same thing, but I know what you mean. I should probably take a look at it.” He placed my hand in my lap and left the couch.
“Did you know about the farm when you agreed to work for my grandparents?” I called to his retreating figure. He returned with his first aid kit and sat next to me before placing my hand on his lap, palm up. He was so close that our knees were touching.
“George sat me down and told me everything before he would let me agree to take the job. I’d already made up my mind to say yes before he told me, but after our conversation, I knew it was something I had to do.”
“You had to do?” I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion before wincing as he unwrapped the bandages.
“This farm doesn’t produce recreational marijuana—well, I guess that depends on if you really believe Leonard has glaucoma.” Hisbeard twitched again, and I smiled. “It’s medical marijuana. Your grandparents had been studying the effects of cannabis on all types of illnesses and began to grow different strains on the farm. They wanted to sell it to families looking for an alternative to standard medicine. Word began to spread, and people started coming from all over the country to stay in town. Some even came from all over the world.” My head was spinning. That explained why this town was so diverse and growing as a tourist attraction. Preston Smith wanted this farm for the hospitality potential but had no idea why it was such a hot commodity.
