“WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT this,” Andy said, glancing down at the small dog trotting happily behind her on the way to the summer kitchen she’d turned into an office. “I said you could stay and I meant it. I’m not going back on my word.” Now that she had him, she couldn’t imagine her life without the dog. In the short time she’d known him, she’d already fallen in love with him. “But you’ve got to get over this gender bias thing. We’ll work on it together.”
Apparently, Andy’s new dog didn’t like men, which was damned inconvenient given how many of them lived on her farm. Otter Fox had fallen all over himself trying to make up to Millie. He’d practically climbed onto the older woman’s lap, wiggling his entire body and covering her with kisses. Millie took one look at the dog and then at her, shook her head and went off to find some table scraps to mix in with his food. She was going to have to watch it or the little dog was likely to get too fat for his stocky little legs to carry him.
But when Travis came into the kitchen, it was as if someone threw a switch and the dog dove under the table and started to growl. He kept his brown eyes fixed on Travis, kicking up the volume a notch when he took a step closer. In the end, Millie had fixed him a mug and shooed him out the door with an extra slice of cake to go with his coffee as a consolation prize. From the look on the man’s face, the baked goods bribe worked but it wasn’t a sustainable situation. Not unless Millie wanted to treat the kitchen like a taco truck and have the guys come to the window to pick up their food.
Not bothering to close the office door behind her in case the dog needed to go out, Andy flipped on the lights and blew out her breath when she saw the mess of papers sprawled across her desk. The disheveled state of her office was just one of the things her old self wouldn’t recognize. Andrea was a neat freak and almost OCD when it came to numbers. The new Andy took a more fluid approach to bookkeeping and loved the periwinkle color of her 50s-era metal desk a lot more than the ledgers buried in the piles on top of it.
Dropping the old pillow she’d brought with her on the floor beside her chair, she bent down to pat the dog’s head.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make you a real bed soon,” she said, taking a few extra moments to stroke his silky ears. Maybe she could get a couple of yards of one of those chintzes with the overblown peonies and hydrangeas on it. “You’re man enough to sleep on flowers, aren’t you?” She cooed to the dog, who wagged his tail happily before circling the pillow twice and curling into a ball in the center.
Most of her current life was in opposition to the past, but the mess on her desk wasn’t part of that. It was more a side effect of all the other things that demanded her time and attention, things that felt more important than making sure the numbers worked out. The plants, animals, and people took more time than she had to give, and she loved that part of her work anyway. It was the part that felt real, but once a week or at most once every two weeks, she forced herself to sit down and take stock of how the farm was doing. The state of her desk made it clear she was closer to the two-week mark this time.
After what happened with Millie and the farm, she’d had to redefine her definition of success, but despite needing to pull back, she couldn’t stop herself from wanting to do the best she could with the farm. She and the old woman had plenty of late-night conversations over endless pots of tea before Andy got things right in her head. She’d been so busy doing penance, she hadn’t really understood the concept of stewardship. Not until Millie drilled it into her thick skull. It was Millie who pointed out that making a success of the farm was her job and anything less was as self-indulgent as chasing money just so she could have more—to hell with the cost.
In the beginning, she’d still done it mostly out of a sense of obligation to the older woman, but now she’d started to realize that the number of people she could help was tied to Sourwood’s success. And if she was really honest, it was more than helping the vets. They turned out good products. Families depended on the food they grew. She’d watched the same moms and kids come to the farmers’ market week after week to buy whatever she had available, and it mattered to her that the food they took away with them was the best she could possibly grow. That didn’t happen without careful management of all their resources, monetary and otherwise.
Pulling the laptop out of her top drawer, she set about entering the stacks of receipts. At the end of an hour or so, she’d made a sizeable dent in the clutter and Otter Fox had started to dream, his stubby legs twitching as he whimper-barked. Not certain if he was chasing sleep rabbits or something more nefarious, she reached down to lay a hand on his sleeping back. He quieted almost immediately, stitching himself tighter into her heart.
Keeping one hand on the small dog, she opened her browser window and logged into the money market account she used to keep the farm afloat. She had payroll to meet at the end of the month and even with the early greens, extra soap, and preserves, she couldn’t expect the market to bring in enough to begin to cover it. At this time of year, she’d be lucky if the proceeds made a dent.It didn’t matter, she thought, transferring money from the money market account into the operational account. It’s why she had the money.
Millie said she had to get over her “weird ideas of penance,” and maybe someday she would, but for now watching the balance drop in one account to feed the other was a perverse kind of emotional cutting. Like her own fiscal hair shirt. She’d finally gotten to the point where she could acknowledge how screwed up it was, but it didn’t stop her from indulging in a bit of self-flagellation. At least this kind came with a purpose.
She stretched, rolling her aching shoulders. Her body was better suited to bending, lifting, and planting than sitting at a desk. Just another example of how much things had changed. She closed out the browser. She wanted to get the early peas in the ground before dinner and she didn’t want to leave Travis to handle it himself. With Liam and Jake gone for the afternoon, they were down a couple of hands. Not that she was complaining. It was good for Jake to have a friend to do things with. The young man seemed to come back into the world a little more every day now that Liam was around.Wonder how long Liam was planning to stay?
She squished the thought, only to have it pop up again when she remembered the way his hands felt on her face that morning, the calluses rough against her tender skin. Or the way her stomach tightened in anticipation when she thought he might kiss her. It would be easier to sort out her feelings if her traitorous body didn’t seem to have such a clear preference for the man. But honestly, aside from the broad shoulders and tight ass, what did she really know about him? He was good for Jake, Millie had a weird soft spot for him, and her dog hated him. Her dog hated every guy he met, so she might have to scratch that from her list. Liam worked hard, seemed to take pleasure from being a pain in her butt, and her heart started racing like she’d run a marathon every time he got close to her. If she didn’t do something about it, she was in danger of having an attack.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she fought a silent war with her better self and the one who usually called the shots. Then she typedLiam Rogersinto the search bar and hit Enter. She spent ten minutes scrolling through Facebook and LinkedIn profiles only to get lost in some scary pictures of some dude with a cat. There was nothing about her Liam. Not that he was hers. They all needed to be crystal-clear about that. Whatever he thought they were going to revisit, she needed to make sure they both knew it was strictly physical. She exhaled, closing her eyes for a moment. It had been a long time since she’d been up close and physical with something that didn’t require batteries.
Liam would be a great guy to break her drought. She could spend however long he was there filling up and then head out in the desert again when he left. Or she could just not think about that part because picturing Liam walking away did funny fluttery things to her heart and she was already taxing the poor muscle. She scrolled through another page of random guys, finally giving in when she landed on an article about baby names in Wyoming. The Internet was a wonderful, scary place.
What if he looked her up? What would he find? Unless he knew to try Andrea—which he wouldn’t—he shouldn’t find anything but the farm’s website and a couple of human interest stories. Even if he did figure out who she’d been before, he’d have a hard time finding any real information. Her kind of mistakes left a paper trail but not an easily followed one. Liam wouldn’t find out about her previous life or what she’d done to Millie and her husband. Not unless she or Millie told him, and she knew without asking the older woman wouldn’t say a word.
On the floor beside her, Otter Fox jumped to his feet and let out a low growl. Andy followed the direction of his gaze to the doorway, slamming her laptop shut when she saw Liam’s huge form silhouetted in the opening. The last thing she needed was for him to know she’d been stalking him on the Internet. The man suffered the opposite of an inferiority complex. He didn’t need any more ammunition.
“Still not a fan, huh?” He motioned to the growling dog.
“He didn’t like Mike or Travis either. It’s not you. It seems to be men in general,” she said, although it cost her something to admit it to him.
“Wonder why?” he asked, looking thoughtful.
He stepped into the office and the dog’s growling kicked up a couple of notches, even as he backed up against her legs.
“You’re scaring him.”
“It sounds like he’s the one trying to scare me.”
Liam squatted in front of the little dog. He didn’t try to pet him or crowd him more than he was already doing, taking up more than his fair share of room in her office. She didn’t know about Otter Fox but having Liam in her space was making it hard for her to breathe.
“Did somebody hurt you, little guy?” he asked, keeping his voice soft and steady.
The dog kept his gaze fixed on Liam as if he was afraid if he looked away, the man might do something bad and he wanted to be ready, but his growling hitched, faltering slightly. Andy knelt on the ground beside him, sitting back on her heels and resting her hand on the dog’s back. She could feel his small body vibrate under her palm, and she stroked his soft fur, trying to help him calm down. It would be easier if Liam would leave the two of them alone. But unless Otter Fox got used to having men around, they were all going to be miserable. Including the trembling dog.
“I wondered that too. The shelter said he was an owner turn-in but they didn’t mention anything about his gender issues.” She slid her hand under the dog’s silky ears, scratching gently. He glanced over his shoulder at her, just for a moment, but she took it as a reassuring sign that he was willing to pull his gaze away from Liam. “He likes Millie.”
“Who doesn’t?” he asked, watching the dog carefully.
Andy’s knees were starting to bug her, but Liam showed no outward signs of discomfort or impatience. It looked like he was willing to stay crouched on the ground for as long as he needed to make peace with the dog. For his part, Otter Fox seemed willing to consider an exception for the big blond Viking as long as he didn’t make any sudden moves. His growling stopped and his eyes drifted shut for a moment, popping open again when Liam offered his hand to sniff.
