“Maybe you’ll even break his streak,” Dale said, winking. “Though I doubt it.”
Not this again…
“What do you mean?” Jillian asked, pretty sure she already knew where this was going.
“Oh, we tease him a little,” Dale said. “He can get them on the hook, but he never seems to reel them in. He always says he’s just having a bad streak.”
“A bad streak?” Jillian echoed helplessly.
“Yeah,” Dale said, rolling his eyes. “One that’s gone on for years. But if anyone can break his streak, it’s Jillian Johnson. He always had such a thing for you—the original one that got away, I guess.”
“Oh,” Jillian said, unable to think of a single word of response.
“Anyway, see you around,” Dale said, heading up Maple Street.
Jill continued to the parking lot, trying not to get wrapped up in her worries again. Tripp had invited her to spend time with his family. That was more important than what some friend of his from high school had to say.
And besides, not everything Dale said was bad.
If anyone can break his streak, it’s Jillian Johnson…
Later that afternoon,she and the girls were ready to get in the car and head over to Lawrence Farm.
All the homework and chores were done, so they could just relax and enjoy an evening out of the house.
“You two don’t need anything?” Jillian asked Gram and Grampy on their way out the door.
“Oh, goodness no,” Gram chuckled.
“We love having you here,” Grampy said. “But we’ve been on our own for decades now. We’ll be fine for one night.”
“We’ll have a quiet evening,” Gram said, nodding.
Jillian thought about her grandparents as she drove the short distance on Fox Hollow, then pulled into the drive with the sign for Lawrence Farm. She couldn’t help wondering if maybe it was a little overwhelming to her grandparents to have three new family members in the house so suddenly.
Of course they were all enjoying their time together, but it couldn’t be easy to have the energy of two little girls and the constant din of home repairs happening, all while their granddaughter constantly wrung her hands and asked if they needed anything.
But the work would be done soon enough, and then Jillian and the girls would have their own sitting room upstairs. Her grandparents would get some of their privacy back.
“Whoa,” Mari breathed, breaking Jillian out of her tapestry of worries.
“That’s a lot of cows,”Posey chirped.
Jillian looked out over the meadow. She had grown up in the countryside, where there were cows and horses everywhere, and even she had to admit that the Lawrence cows were exceptionally beautiful. Their thick coats shone in the dwindling daylight, and a few of them looked up in gentle curiosity as she drove past, their beautiful dark eyes calm and free of fear.
“They have a good life here,” Jillian told the girls. “I know Tripp and his family work very hard to take care of them.”
“Happy cows make sweeter cream,” Posey chimed. “That’s what Tripp says.”
“I think he’s right about that,” Jillian said.
She pulled up to the farmhouse and parked in the gravel area at the end of the driveway, where Tripp said he’d be waiting for her.
Sure enough, by the time she had the girls out of the car, and the tray of sliced zucchini bread Gram had sent over for Maggie out of the back, Tripp was standing on the front porch of the stone farmhouse, waving to them.
Her heart caught in her throat.
He was only a man. Maybe he was taller and more muscular than most, with the bone structure of a movie star. And he wasn’t dressed sharply, or giving her any kind of smoldering look. He was just Tripp, in his usual worn jeans and flannel shirt, with a warm smile of welcome on his face, so big that it crinkled his eyes.
