He took another step toward her, his face dangerously close to hers. “I seriously doubt that. You haven’t got the first clue what it is to work hard. This farm, this land and all it demands, is hard work. I suppose you still tromp around in a pink dress and smile and wink for some judges and you think that’s work? Get real.”
“That was a long time ago. And there was more to it than that.”
“You know what? I don’t have time for this. You live in your world. I’ll live in mine. Got that?”
“Got it,” she roared back.
“I think we’re done here. I’ll give my mother your check. She’ll be thrilled. Probably fly to Tahiti with all this money.”
“You’re a jerk, Mica Barzonni.”
The anger in his eyes died instantly, as if she’d doused the fire. His face softened and she felt he was seeing her for the first time. His eyes were imploring, seeking. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “That was rude of me.”
Surprised at his apology, she stared at him for a long moment. She’d had her shields up and had been ready to wield a sword against him if need be. She held her breath, waiting for the next attack.
“I’m sorry, Grace,” he murmured. “I like your Aunt Louise a lot. She’s a nice lady. And I don’t know anything about you or what you’ve done with your life. Forgive me?”
“I do,” she replied softly, sensing his disappointment in himself.
He moved a step closer. “I don’t want to fight with you. Or anyone.” He touched his left arm. “It embarrasses me that I’m not...well, who I was.”
“Don’t say that. You’re Mica and that’s a good thing. At least I always thought so.”
He massaged his arm, then let his right hand drop.
“It had to be painful. Sarah said the car dropped on you.”
“Funny. A lot of it I don’t remember. But every hour of every day, I’m left with this reminder of my carelessness. It was so stupid,” he said angrily.
She reached for his hand, but didn’t touch him. He jerked away from her.
“See why I don’t like going into the details?”
“It’s upsetting.”
“More than you can imagine,” he replied.
“Then let’s talk about something else,” she said, smiling at him.
“Like what?”
“We have a lot of years to catch up on. I don’t know what happened to you. I mean, not about your accident. I remember you talking about engines and machines and the things you wanted to invent. Did you end up going to Purdue?”
“You remember all that?”
“I remember everything about you.” Her words came out as a whisper.
“I got my engineering degree,” he said, leaning closer.
“Mica, that’s wonderful. I’m proud of you.”
“Really?”
“Of course. I always wanted the best for you. I knew you’d succeed. You were so determined and focused as a teen.”
Confusion wrinkled his brow. “You thought that?”
“I did.” She couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “You see, I was paying attention.”
“I’m...I’m surprised.” He raked back a lock of hair. “You surprise me.”
“That’s a good thing, huh?” She felt a warm glow in her chest.
“Yeah,” he said, though he still didn’t smile. He glanced back toward the kitchen door. “Hey, I was just about to raid the fridge for dinner. Everybody went out to Gabe’s house—”
“And you didn’t go?” she interrupted.
“No, I don’t usually...”
“Why not?”
He placed his right hand on his left arm without looking at it. His eyes were focused on her. Grace liked the attention Mica gave her. A lot.
“I wasn’t up to it.” A dark shadow clouded his sky blue eyes.
Understanding cracked like a bolt of lightning across Grace’s mind. “Mica...are you asking me to dinner?”
He blinked as if he remembered where he was. Who he was with. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
“Great.” She beamed. “I’m starving. I spent the afternoon surrounded by sugar and ice cream and didn’t steal a bite for myself.”
He took two steps back. “This way.”
Inside the kitchen, he went straight to the large refrigerator and began withdrawing plastic covered bowls. “Manicotti. Salad. Mixed fruit. Ooh, and Mom’s herbed Italian bread.”
He spooned pasta onto two plates and put the first one into the microwave.
Once the food was heated, they sat at the kitchen table.
The garlic and basil aroma made Grace’s mouth water. She finished her pasta long before Mica. She looked up. He held his fork midmotion as if he’d forgotten to take a bite in the process of watching her.
“What?” she asked.
“You give hungry a new meaning.” He still didn’t smile, and only gave her that enigmatic, distant look that she’d always assumed to be arrogance.
She grinned, hoping to crack the wall of ice he kept around him. “I’d like to blame the jet lag, but the truth is...I eat like this too often. Definitely not healthy.”
“Why?”
“Because I work for six, maybe eight hours nonstop. I’m so immersed in my designs that I forget to eat. Or sleep.”
“It’s that way for you, too?”
She lowered her fork and wiped her mouth. She kept her eyes on his. “Uh-huh.”
“I thought it was just me. I thought it was depression from the accident.”
“Tell me how it’s been, Mica.”
She’d barely uttered the words and he started talking without taking a breath.
“It’s not the accident—the pain or even this bothersome rehab that’s so hard. It’s like every aspect of my life is withering away. One day I was the hero on the farm, able to fix every piece of equipment. I have more tools in the mechanical shed than they have at Home Depot. Whatever Rafe could do, I could do as well and faster. Once Gabe left, Mom was sure we’d have to cut back on production. But we didn’t. We simply went on.” He snapped his fingers. “Like that. Everything changed. Rafe and Mom want to replace me—”
“You can’t mean that.”
“They do.”
“But you’re Mica. You’re...”
“As insignificant as humanly possible,” he interjected, lowering his gaze.
Grace pushed her chair back and rose slowly. She placed her hands on either side of his face. “Look at me.”
“Grace, you don’t have to say anything. I...thank you for listening.”
“Shut up.”
She kissed him. It was more electric than she’d planned. She didn’t pity Mica. She didn’t think he was looking for a savior. She just wanted to know if what she