“She said something about dinner plans and disappeared.” Tally slides her fork around her plate. “And I think she’s avoiding me. I really screwed up yesterday. I keep screwing up when it comes to her.”
Getting to know anything else about Tally is dangerous. Yet somehow I find myself asking, “Why do you think that?”
When she looks back at me, her amber eyes so wide and sad, it’s like a punch to the gut. “I think I remind her of my dad.”
I shake my head. She looks nothing like her dad. And she certainly doesn’t act like him. This girl is all bright and shiny and loud. Her father was kind but quiet.. A hard worker. Maybe she’s got that in common with him. Time will tell. But I don’t see the resemblance, even a little bit.
“It’s fine,” she says with a forced cheer to her voice, making it so I don’t have to respond. “I’m going to prove to her that I want to be here. You, too. And I’m going to do whatever I can to save the farm.”
She flashes me a smile. It feels genuine, which is awfully bittersweet because I’d like to see it a lot more but know I don’t deserve it.
I try to move the conversation in a different direction. “Your mother said you were in Vermont.”
Tally’s eyes widen. “Is that, like, an actual question?”
She’s teasing me. I know she’s teasing me, and even though I don’t want to play these games with her, I feel my lips twitch into a half smile.
“Yes, Tally. You said you’re here because you want to be. But I’m confused as to why. Did you lose your job?”
That might make more sense. If not, why did she choose to come home? Why now?
Tally shakes her head and sets down her fork. “I work seasonally in different places.”
“Yes, your father mentioned that.”
Her chest rises and falls with that information, and her eyes settle on the glass soda bottle in front of her. She reaches out to play with the straw, swirling it around the top. “I want to help you all get through this first season without him. I know I can be of use.” She raises those pretty eyes of hers, and it’s like she’s pleading with me to let her. To believe that she really does want to help.
And maybe she does. Maybe her heart is in the right place. Maybe she’s just gone about it all wrong.
I give her a singular nod. I can do this for Peter. I can help his family heal, help them get the farm up and running for the season, turn around this business, and save the land for all of us.
And I can do it without getting trapped in his daughter’s golden eyes.
Tally goes back to humming the song playing on the radio, and that’s when I realize it’s the same damn song that was on when I entered the house.
I pause, trying to figure out which Taylor Swift melody is playing, but it’s not familiar. “What song is that?”
Tally’s eyes glitter with delight as she replies, “Cowboy Like Me.”
I can’t help the laugh that slips out. “Why does it keep playing?”
“Put it on repeat for ya.” She nudges my elbow with her own, and I focus on my food to keep from laughing more.
“You’re something else.”
“That sounds like a compliment.”
“You don’t get many compliments, huh?”
Tally’s brows rise and she shrugs. We eat the rest of the meal in silence, the damn song playing over and over. By the time I’m done with my plate—it took seconds, I’m not ashamed to admit—I know every lyric. I snag her plate, too, and walk toward the sink.
“Oh, chores!” She bounces off her chair and follows me to the sink. “We should discuss that, huh?”
I glance over at her. She’s close. Once again standing hip to hip with me in front of the sink. I glare down at our feet, which are practically touching. “How’s your ankle?”
When she doesn’t reply, I lift my eyes to hers, and dammit, that was a mistake. Because she’s looking at me like I just told her I loved her. Like she’s not used to people caring. A soft smile plays on her lips. “It’s fine. Think the alcohol took away any of the residual pain.”
She turns back to the sink, and I’m left staring after her again. She’s so damn happy and pretty and perfect and easy to talk to. I can’t stand myself for how much I like it. I reach for a plate and grunt. “What’re you doing?”
