Ted Delaney had a proud tilt to his chin, and his warm eyes reflected his love for his wife and three sons. Mary Delaney stood next to her husband with devotion beaming in her kind, gentle smile. Behind the couple stood three handsome sons who were very similar in looks, yet so different in lifestyle.
The middle son, Max, was also the tallest, with a square jaw, a short military buzz cut and a face set in stoic lines From what she remembered, he was a Navy Seal and didn’t make it home often because of his many assignments overseas.
Abe, the eldest, had thick black hair with soft, silken waves. His deep, mysterious eyes reminded her of a warm pool of melted chocolate. The proud set of his jaw said he was a force to reckon with. She should know. She’d gone head to head with him on more than one occasion. Her blood pressure rose to scorching heights at the mere memory of their arguments. She resisted the urge to fan herself.
Her gaze settled on Jacob, the youngest, the man she’d met and intended to marry. He’d had boyish features, welcoming, friendly, and in the picture he wore a mischievous smile. Of the three brothers, he looked most like their mother. The Jacob she’d known opened his heart to everyone, but in the end his deeply-concealed secrets had destroyed his happiness.
Tears stung her eyes. She blinked them back. Five years later, and her raw emotions still stung her like needles of devastation.
The sound of rubber-soled shoes on the polished floor, followed by an intrusive cough, pulled Dee from her thoughts. She turned and offered Mrs. Graves a forced smile. “That photo always grabs my attention.”
Mrs. Graves shrugged. “Can I get you anything? Lemonade? Tea? Something to eat?”
Dee shook her head. Tendrils of hair fell against her face, cooling her heated cheeks. She brushed them back. “No, thank you. I’ll just get my things settled into my room.”
“Abe asked me to show you into the guest room–”
“The guest room?” Dee blurted between tight lips.
Mrs. Graves’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Is there a problem?”
“I planned to stay in my old bedroom.” Dee didn’t want to make waves, but she didn’t consider herself a guest.
Several expressions flickered over the other woman’s face, until indifference swept through her blue-gray eyes. “Then so be it. I can prepare the bedroom with fresh sheets.”
Dee waved a hand. “No, no. I can take care of it.”
With a brusque nod, Mrs. Graves turned on her heel and started out of the room. Dee caught the woman before she disappeared. “Mrs. Graves, is Abe home?”
Mrs. Graves turned. Her cool glare pierced Dee from across the room. “No. He’s out.”
Dee let her leave without further interruption. The older woman reminded Dee of her pinch-faced second grade teacher. Mrs. Halesworthy had worn thick-soled shoes that made swishing sounds as she walked through the halls of the school. The teacher had carried her pointing stick like a weapon. If a kid broke a rule, Mrs. Halesworthy could scare the child until they peed their pants. She didn’t doubt Mrs. Graves could frighten kids, and probably most adults.
Now that she was happily alone, Dee couldn’t resist checking out the first floor. She felt like a child on Christmas morning. She’d always found silent stories in the antique furniture Mother Delaney had collected from all over the country.
She felt like an intruder as she snuck a glance into the living room. The décor transported her back into the 1800s. Dark wood, polished and refined, trimmed walls papered in solid red. Years of gentle wear had softened the finish on cherry hardwood floors. The paisley brown rug centered before the fireplace was new–or at least to her. The colors complemented the beige upholstery of the couch and chair.
The built-in shelves were also new, and brimming with books. She could guess Abe had read each one, maybe twice, some three times. He was a complex man. Country living sizzled in his blood during the day, but by night he was a scholar who buried himself in books. He’d even given thought to writing his own novel.
Dee headed toward the kitchen for a drink, but decided against it when she heard the sound of clinking dishes. Mrs. Graves wouldn’t appreciate her company. Instead, she lugged her bags up the staircase and down the long hall. Luggage-lifting would have made one kick-ass workout, because she was exhausted by the time she reached her bedroom. Maybe her personal trainer had been a waste of money
It didn’t matter anymore. No more personal trainers, luxury gyms, gourmet coffee shops on every corner or fancy restaurants. Willow Creek was far from the city. Coming back to the quiet town, she’d given up all the lavish perks for a simpler way of life. She hadn’t found a drop of happiness in Chicago.
Maybe country life would steer her toward contentment.
The closest thing she’d get to a gym in these parts was milking the cows, weeding the gardens and harvesting the crops. If she wanted gourmet coffee, she’d have to brew it herself. Fancy eating wasn’t a concern, considering she’d worked as a caterer for ten years and could toss together a fine meal when the mood struck. She wasn’t giving up anything in the long run, right?
She lingered in the hallway with her hand on the bedroom doorknob. Taking a calming breath, she pushed the door open and crossed the threshold.
It was still her room. Nothing had changed. The pale blue walls, the white trim, the black sleigh-style wooden headboard all remained. She’d picked out the thick white comforter and colorful pillows herself. The matching chest once held framed pictures, but she’d taken them with her. She’d have them returned by nightfall.
Apprehension knotted her stomach as memories filled her mind. She tried to nudge them away, but they burrowed deeper.
Outside she heard the crunching of tires on gravel, drawing her to the large bay window. Tossing the smallest bag onto the bed, she pulled back the sheer lace curtain, and peered out at the front yard and the twisting, narrow drive. Abe’s black truck came into view, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake.
Dee watched with bated breath as Abe parked in front of the house. Seconds later, he slid out from the driver’s side. The morning sun glinted off his hair, turning it almost a faint purple. Blue flannel drew attention to his broad shoulders, while worn jeans accentuated the length of his toned legs. An odd feeling washed over her. Abe lifted his head, looking directly at her. A moan escaped her lips. Her heart clenched, and butterflies flitted in her stomach. He stared up at her. His steely, dark gaze penetrated her through the window.
With a twist of her wrist, she let the curtain drop and jumped back. She brought a shaky hand to her chest and ordered her body not to betray her. She closed her eyes and forced her breathing to slow. Abe was a mere man. He had no control over her. Or did he?
It’d taken months of mental preparation, as well as exhaustive planning, for her to come back to the farm. When she had left, she’d sworn she’d never return under any circumstances. Not as long as Abe remained.
She had been engaged to Jacob for less than two days when he’d brought her to Delaney’s Farm. She hadn’t been ready to meet the older, tougher brother Jacob had told her about. Jacob never could have prepared her for Abe. She remembered all too well how he’d besieged her with his curious chocolate-colored eyes. They had burned a hole through her then–as they would now.
She brushed her clammy palms down her pants and fidgeted with the lace edging her top. She’d have to face Abe again, sooner or later. Time to get it over with.
Taking a seat at the vanity, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. It seemed as though the hands of time had molded her face with their cool touch. People said she was pretty. She supposed it was true, in a classic, delicate way. Her hair was a shade of light chestnut, natural–unlike her friends, who had to color theirs every three months.
Her skin was fair, and she never tanned. Her mother had told her a hundred times that wrinkles were never