“I offered to sign it over to you, remember? We were sitting in the attorney’s office after the reading of the will and I told you I didn’t want the farm. I knew it wasn’t right for me to have it.” Her heavy sigh seemed to slice through the tension. “You refused to let me sign my share over to you.”
He gripped the wood railing until his knuckles turned white. “Are you here to make that offer again?”
Dee clasped her hands tightly. To Abe, she was just a lingering sign of Jacob’s rebellion. If Jacob had willed her his half of the farm, it was–in Abe’s mind–just another impulsive act in a long string of impulses that had centered around Dee. Jacob hadn’t been thinking clearly, Abe had said. After Jacob’s death, he’d accused her of clouding both their minds with her hypnotic poison.
He turned. His emotions seemed under control, and his triple-layered wall appeared back in place. “Are you going to answer me? Are you here to make that offer again?”
She narrowed her eyes. “No.”
He pushed away from the rail and brushed past her. She kept her gaze on his back as he stomped off the porch. “That’s fine,” he muttered. “You’ll run again. The sooner, the better.”
Chapter 2
Dee watched as Abe marched toward the barn, his back stiff and his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Icy fingers of dread skimmed down her spine and the butterflies in her stomach fluttered wildly. She’d expected his anger. What she hadn’t anticipated was the way her body still responded to him with such profound intensity. She should be repulsed. She wasn’t.
She turned on her heel and came face-to-face with Mrs. Graves, who blocked the doorway. The woman looked like a mama bear coming to her cub’s rescue. Dee could respect that Abe had a guardian, though he was the last one who needed protection. With a shrug and a fake smile, Dee said, “Well, that went well.”
Mrs. Graves threw her head back and sniffed loudly. “I found it much like snake charming. The charmer hypnotizes the reptile simply by playing an instrument.” Her cool gray gaze slid over Dee’s body in silent implication.
Dee stiffened her spine. “Am I the charmer in that comparison?”
“You know what they say, if the scales fit...”
“Well, I can assure you, they never met Abe Delaney.” Dee brushed past Mrs. Graves, fighting back the threatening mist of tears. She was a strong woman; she could handle the devil and his guard. She only needed a moment to regain her balance.
Back in her bedroom and safely tucked away from both Mrs. Graves’ judgmental eye and Abe’s harsh attitude, she finally swallowed the lump in her throat. She scrubbed her knuckles against her damp eyes with a groan.
Could the situation get any worse? She fell back onto the bed, pulled the downy blanket over her and closed her eyes.
“Okay, Jacob.” Her voice echoed in the empty room. “I’m here at the farm. Your brother despises me. I suspect that Mrs. Graves, whom I’ve never met before today, hates me too. I’m sure you have your reasons for leaving me your share of ownership, but for the life of me I’m stumped.”
After a good period of sulking, Dee moved from the bed and caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror. She hadn’t worn jeans in years. She found them comfortable. Her lifestyle in Chicago wasn’t fitting for jeans and boots. Designer clothes and lavish embellishment had been the norm.
Who had she become since she moved to Chicago?
She was only a fragment of that naïve girl who’d met a man, a week later agreed to marry him, and flown home with him to a farm located in nine-oh-two-one-nowhere. She’d blame the impulsiveness on lust, but no, that was impossible. Their relationship hadn’t gotten to that level.
She had known little about Jacob. There were things a woman needed to learn about a man before she said “yes” to the engagement. She’d gone into the relationship curious about his middle name, his favorite color, and what he slept in at night–if he slept in anything at all.
People should know those things about a partner before they promised to spend their lives together. Her mother had been right when she’d told her not to jump into marriage with a stranger.
Jacob had died before the wedding, but in truth their relationship had ended weeks before. They’d never have gone through with the ceremony. He’d destroyed a large part of her innocence. Her hopes of a happy ending had been smashed. When she’d found out Jacob had been living a double life she’d been floored. She’d had no clue who he truly was until he told her the truth.
She pulled away from the mirror. As tempting as it was, she couldn’t hide in her bedroom all evening. Things wouldn’t change on their own. She had the power to make things better–and hoped Abe would come around, eventually.
Feeling refreshed, she bounded downstairs. Mrs. Graves was working in the kitchen. Dee glanced across the room, admiring the modern stainless steel appliances and new cherry wood cabinetry. It was about time Abe got rid of the old stove and dated decor. This was a kitchen she could create culinary art in.
“Hello, Mrs. Graves.”
Mrs. Graves glanced up from kneading dough, gave Dee a brisk nod, then continued to pound the tan blob on the counter with a wooden rolling pin.
Dee leaned against the cutter-board island, glancing across the mound of sliced apples, a variety of spices and a bowl of butter. “Those apples smell delicious.”
Pausing again, Mrs. Graves brushed a loose curl off her forehead. “They’re from the trees in the grove. Apple is Abe’s favorite pie.” A hint of a smile lifted the corner of her thin mouth, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
How could she forget apple was Abe’s favorite? She’d made him more than one pie while she lived on the farm. “Well, I’d be happy to lend a hand. Apple pie is one of my specialties.” She stole a piece of apple and popped it into her mouth. The crisp, sweet and juicy fruit brought her taste buds alive as her mind conjured up an array of recipes she could create with them. Recipes to seduce a man right out of his boots. She cleared her throat–and her mind. “I bet these make great pies.”
With a tired sigh, the older woman shook her head. “With all due respect, Ms. Crawford, I enjoy working alone.”
A tinge of hurt tugged at her heart. She understood some people enjoyed baking because it relaxed them, but the other woman’s cool attitude had nothing to do with anything so simple.
Stepping back from the countertop, Dee straightened her back and dredged up a smile. “If you change your mind, let me know. Maybe you’d share a few secrets on how you roll your dough without tearing it.”
With that, Dee left her alone.
* * * *
In the barn, Abe grabbed another beer from the cooler and struck the cap against a wooden beam. The top popped off and twirled through the air, landing in the cooler with a clink. He smiled as he brought the long neck to his lips and guzzled half before settling onto his favorite makeshift seat: a bale of hay.
A cold brew never tasted better than when in his special place, which just happened to be the horse barn. He needed a buzz this evening. He could use a smoke too, but never lit up in the barn, and didn’t want to venture outdoors just yet.
He cursed himself for picking up the habit again after dropping