Blue Hollow Falls by Donna Kauffman (3)

Sunny sat in her car with the engine running, looking at the mill, wondering what in the fresh hell had come over her.

She blamed Addie Pearl. The old woman had proposed a solution that would have made this all so very easy—here’s your money, see ya later, bye. And Sunny would have taken her up on that offer. Happily. She wouldn’t have even dickered over the price. Heck, she might have even just signed her share over to Bailey, who was the only one of the three of them who appeared to really need financial support. Assuming the mill would be worth something someday, and not a burden to the poor kid.

Then Addie had to go and make that beautiful, impassioned speech about the value of family and how she was sticking by what she considered her family, her responsibility, her heritage, and Sunny was standing there, thinking about her mother, thinking about herself when she was Bailey’s age, and how hard she’d thought her life had been. Bailey’s had been so very much harder. None of Doyle’s three children had apparently had any kind of father, but she’d had her mama, and Sawyer had Addie. What did Bailey have? And they were sisters, for God’s sake. She had a freaking sister!

Sunny still hadn’t had the time or space to really and truly consider that, figure out what it meant to her, or how it even made her feel.

She also had a brother, apparently, although she couldn’t even go there yet. Not until she managed to get her head and the rest of her body to understand that they were related. Related, you hear?

Sawyer was . . . a lot. In all possible ways. He filled up the space he was in without even trying. He had that kind of natural magnetism and charisma that held every bit of her attention without even trying, and without her permission. She didn’t want to be drawn to him, but even standing inside that cavernous, gutted old mill, he’d made her feel . . . stifled. As if there suddenly wasn’t enough oxygen to breathe.

Emphasis on the sister. Yeah. She was trying. She was sitting in her car, not anywhere near him. Yet she still had the urge to loosen a few buttons, take a few deep breaths. It didn’t help that he was an apparent war hero who’d come back to single-handedly rescue his little mountain hometown.

Bottom line, she had no idea what she wanted. Or didn’t want. She only knew what she couldn’t want. And she was failing at that. Miserably.

All of this felt more than a little surreal. Where she was sitting, what she was contemplating. She felt a little like Alice, right after she’d taken that header down the rabbit hole. Sunny had had no idea what she’d expected when she’d left her nice, safe, predictable life in Old Town that morning, but it had most definitely not been anything like this.

She picked up the legal envelope she’d tossed on the passenger seat and slid the official papers out, the ones that provided proof—in case she doubted it—that her life had just gotten complicated. “Oh, Mama,” she murmured, as she read through the exact words that spelled out her inheritance. “Why didn’t you tell me about Doyle?”

She missed her mother. In ways big and small, light and dark, heavy and . . . well, heavier. Sunny missed her laughter, her dogged optimism, her endless flights of fancy, her companionship. She didn’t miss the work of taking care of Daisy Rose. The feeding, the bathing, the battles over medication, the weary-to-the-bone amount of time, energy, and just plain grit it took, or the toll it had taken on her mind, body, and spirit to do a job she’d been handling every single minute of every single day for as long as she could remember. Even eight months later, she was still quietly stunned as she discovered, almost daily, all the ways she now felt free. Jubilantly, joyously, utterly, overwhelmingly, and yes, guiltily free.

She’d always known that her life had been a lot of work; caring for Daisy Rose had been the cornerstone of every day of that life, from childhood on up. It was the reason she was still single, the reason she buried herself in the USBG greenhouses for far more hours than even her demanding job required. She’d been looking for solace, respite, maybe a teeny, tiny escape to rebuild and restore the energy she would need to get up and do it all over again the next day. Even if she had never let herself think about it that way.

Sunny had still been working her way through adolescence when she’d figured out that if she ever let herself think about her life, or her mother, like a millstone she’d been forced to carry, if she regretted the life she’d been handed, then the burden itself would have swallowed her whole.

No, she’d worked hard to be more like her mother in that regard, to look at the wonder of the world, embrace the joy, dig in the dirt, and celebrate life. And she had done that, too. Every single day.

She missed her mama. But she loved being free. Loved. At first, it had felt wrong, like a betrayal. Then she’d realized that if any one person in the whole wide world would want—no, demand—that Sunny embrace her newfound freedom and utterly revel in it, it would have been Daisy Rose Rainbow Love Garcia Goodwin. So . . . Sunny had. Or she’d certainly been making big inroads into doing so. She’d yet to really figure out what she wanted for herself now. What she wanted now that couldn’t have let herself want before. What was important to her? Would she date more? Though life with Daisy Rose would have terrified most mere mortal men, it wasn’t as if Sunny had lost the love of her life because of her caretaking role. She’d never met someone who’d meant enough to her that that had become an issue.

Was it because she hadn’t let herself fall in love? Had she subconsciously avoided becoming too deeply involved with anyone, because she knew the likely outcome?

She laughed then, and started stuffing the legal papers back in the envelope. “Yeah, then the first guy who really makes your girl parts sit up and pay attention turns out to be your half brother. Ha!” She shook her head, thinking—and not for the first time—that maybe it was like her co-worker and close friend Stevie had been telling her since shortly after Sunny had confided why she couldn’t hang out after work or do a girl’s weekend on the eastern shore. Stevie had told Sunny that if she couldn’t get more help with her mother than a daycare nurse to watch over her while Sunny worked, the least she should do was get herself a good therapist.

Sunny’s lips twisted in a dry smile as she fumbled with the pronged closure on the envelope. “And to think, Mama, I believed that after you passed on, the crazy part of my life was all behind me.”

A light rap on her car window made Sunny squeal and clamp the legal envelope to her chest, covering her now-galloping heart. She shifted around to find Seth Brogan and his long, manly man beard grinning down at her. She pushed the button to lower her window.

“Sorry,” he said, white teeth flashing, making his golden brown eyes dance. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No worries,” she told him, swallowing down the momentary surprise, then taking a short breath to settle her heart rate. “Is something wrong?”

“Wrong?” He looked confused. “No, why? Did something happen?”

“You mean other than finding out I have two siblings and now own a chunk of a centuries-old silk mill?” She smiled. “No, that’s been quite enough already.”

“Two . . .” Seth trailed off, then looked over the top of her car toward the mill, then back at her. “So, the master sergeant is your big brother?” He hooted and the grin that had been open and friendly before took on a decidedly masculine gleam once again. “Well, hell, I might stand a chance then.”

“Stand a—?” Sunny broke off, shook her head. She couldn’t even go there at the moment. “I’m sorry, what was it you wanted?”

“I got halfway home and realized I’d left some tools back here that I’ll need for a little project I’m working on at my farm. I just pulled in and noticed you sitting in there, staring out the windshield, and wondered if you’d like to see the rest of the property.”

“Oh!” she said, surprised, but pleasantly so. “Well, thank you, that’s very kind of you. But I’ve seen the mill, if that’s what you mean.”

He shook his head. “There’s more to the property than just the building.”

“There is?” She looked down at the envelope. There had been a surveyor’s plat map included with the papers, but she hadn’t really looked at it. According to the magistrate, the surrounding property that came with the mill inheritance was all undeveloped.

She looked back to the mill, to the enormous iron waterwheel. Her gaze shifted to the thundering rush of Big Stone Creek as it tumbled over the boulder ledge, then to the thick forest that encroached on the open area around the mill, then up to the craggy gray stone edifice of Hawk’s Nest Ridge, which soared above it in the background. The whole of it tugged at her somewhere deep inside. She attributed it to the pull of nature, to her natural-born desire to dig in the dirt, to her education and training.

“I—” Want to, she realized, but didn’t say it out loud. She looked down at herself, then glanced out at the sun, which was brushing the tops of the towering pines as it continued its descent toward the skyline. The cool nip in the mountain air was becoming more pronounced and she hadn’t brought anything heavier to wear. Not to mention, her sensible pumps weren’t exactly designed for hiking. “—appreciate the offer. I do. But I’m not exactly dressed for a stroll through the woods, and it’s getting late. I still have to drive back to the city.”

He frowned. “You’re leaving? You just got here.”

“I have to go to work in the morning.” Despite her inner disquiet, she found herself smiling up at him. His easy, cheerful manner and puppy dog enthusiasm made it almost impossible not to. Plus, stout beard notwithstanding, he was not at all hard on the eyes. What’s in the water up here, anyway? “I work in D.C.,” she explained. “It would be a bit of a commute from here.”

“True that,” he said, seeming to take her rejection in stride.

Something told her he didn’t let much bother him, but she suspected he wasn’t as much of an easy-come-easy-go kind of guy as he might like to put on. Sawyer emanated a kind of throttled intensity all the time, but she imagined there was more to Seth Brogan than met the eye.

“What is it you do in our nation’s capital?” he asked.

“I’m a horticulturalist. I work for the U.S. Botanic Garden in D.C.”

His eyes widened a bit at that and his smile spread to a grin. “Plant lady. I like it.”

She laughed. “I . . . yep, that’s one way to put it.” She kind of liked it, too. “Llama guy.”

He barked a laugh at that. “I knew I liked you.” He laid his palms on the roof of the car, leaned down just a bit so his gaze was more level with hers.

His eyes were a beautiful, deep golden brown, sort of in the same family as hers, but much richer in color. Added to that they managed to twinkle when he grinned despite their deep color. She wondered if there were dimples under that beard and mustache. She’d bet yes. Probably a cleft in that chin, too.

“Maybe they’d understand you taking a sick day, or some leave. I mean, your father did just pass away. My condolences by the way,” he added, sounding and looking sincere.

She wondered just how much Seth knew about the situation, then realized that maybe he’d actually known her father. She wasn’t sure why that mattered, or even if it mattered. Even so, her curiosity won out. “Did you know Doyle?” she asked by way of response.

He shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. Never met the man. I’m a new arrival. I’ve heard some stories, though.”

“I bet,” she said, more to herself. Then, to him, she added, “I really do appreciate the kind offer, but you’ve got a llama to feed and I have a drive to make.”

He looked disappointed, and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t feel kind of nice to have a handsome, charismatic man wishing he could spend more time with her. That he was a handsome, charismatic man she wasn’t related to was a definite bonus.

“When will you be back?” He braced his hands on his thighs now, and she couldn’t help but note the ripple of shoulder muscles straining impressively against the seams of the zip-up fleece jacket he wore over the long-sleeved, beaten-up T-shirt he’d had on earlier. “The offer to meet Dex and take a little stroll in the woods remains open.”

“I appreciate that,” she said with a little laugh. “Honestly, though, I don’t know what my plans are regarding Blue Hollow Falls,” she said, speaking the one truth she knew. Would she be coming back? Or would she just call Addie Pearl and relinquish her share of the mill after all? And what about Bailey? She shook her head. “Give Dex an extra carrot—or whatever llamas consider a treat—and tell him it’s from me.” She shifted so she could extend her right hand through the open window. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Seth Brogan.”

He looked at her hand, then back to her face, his expression one of exaggerated sorrow. There might have even been a little pout, which drew her attention to his mouth. Framed by that beard, she had to admit it was more than a little sensuous.

“Don’t go doing that now,” he teased. “Or I’ll be tempted to follow up. I’m incorrigible like that.” He grinned again. “Fair warning.”

She jerked her gaze back to his, realizing he’d caught her staring at his mouth. Now it was her turn to bark out a short laugh. “Right. Warning taken.”

He took her hand before she could pull it back inside the car and brushed a quick kiss over her knuckles. His lips were warm, and his beard soft, not bristly. She couldn’t say it made her feel all tingly, but it did make her pulse speed up a little. It felt . . . nice. Flattering.

Her thoughts shifted, without permission, to Sawyer. To how he made all sorts of things speed up inside her without even trying. And while Seth was sweet and charming, Sawyer was . . . more. A whole lot more.

Would she even be seeing him again? Which prompted Sunny to wonder if her newfound older sibling was planning on keeping in touch with her. What had Addie’s little speech make him think about, or feel?

“I must be slipping,” Seth said, jerking her thoughts back to him, to the present.

“Sorry,” she said, realizing her thoughts had wandered. To Sawyer. Again. “It’s been . . . a day.”

Seth was still holding her hand, and he gave it a reassuring squeeze before letting it go. “I can imagine.” He straightened then, and reached in the back pocket of his thoroughly disreputable, ancient to the point of disintegrating Army fatigues and took out a rather nice-looking, hand-tooled leather wallet. From it, he extracted a business card, and handed it to her. She wasn’t sure which part of that surprised her more. That he had a nice wallet when he looked like he did his clothes shopping at Goodwill? Or that he had a business card.

“Thanks,” she said automatically, then glanced down at it. In a casual script, the card was printed with the name of his business, Bluestone & Vine, followed by his name, a post office box address, his phone number, e-mail, and Web site address. She giggled as she read the caption at the bottom of the card. “Home of the Llamarama Label.” On the right side of the card, there was a pen and ink sketch of the head of a llama reaching up, as if leaning into the frame of the card, and nibbling on a grape bunch dangling from a vine that wove around the top corner, then through the name of the winery. The card was cream colored, and the paper was textured. The vine and grapes appeared as if they’d been painted with watercolors over the pen and ink. It was both beautiful and whimsical. Kind of like its owner, she thought. Or what she knew of him, anyway. She recalled Sawyer telling him to go play in the vines. Now she knew what that meant. “You’re a vintner.” She looked back up at him. “Family trade?”

He lifted his hands away from his narrow hips, making his fleece jacket drape flat against what appeared to be a hard set of abs. “What, I don’t look like a winemaker?”

His dark blond, sun-streaked hair had partially escaped his man bun, and he was deeply tanned, dusty, and scruffy—kind of a lot in his own way. “I have no idea what a winemaker is supposed to look like,” she said.

“Safe answer.”

She nodded, her expression sage, despite the smile fighting its way to the corners of her mouth. “So sayeth the plant lady.”

He chuckled, then clasped one hand to his heart. “A botanist and a winemaker. We could make beautiful music together, Sunny Goodwin.”

She could have corrected him on the job classification, but it wasn’t important. “Yes, but then our plants would die of neglect.”

He choked on a laugh, clearly caught off guard by her suggestive rejoinder, but delighted by it all the same. “Well, well.” He braced his hands on the roof of her car and leaned down once again. “Now you have to call me.”

She tucked his card under the strap on her sun visor and started the engine. She looked back at him, but said nothing. He winked, then straightened and propped his hands on his lean hips. He might be fun, her little voice prompted. And you sure could use a little of that. Maybe more than a little.

“We’ll see,” was all she said. Unfortunately, whatever fun she might have with Seth Brogan would be all tangled up with the newest complication in her life. Fun yes, but worth it? She wasn’t so sure. “Thank you,” she told him, quite sincerely.

“For?” he asked, still smiling despite her unwillingness to accept his offer.

“For making the day better.”

He nodded. “Any time. If you want to talk, about the mill, about Blue Hollow Falls, your new family, about growing plants . . .” That twinkle shifted to a sexy gleam. “Or neglecting them? Give me a shout.”

Sex appeal notwithstanding, Seth struck her as the kind of guy who’d be a good friend. Except for that part where he’d be trying to get her into bed the whole time. And maybe the part where she’d be tempted to let him. Still, true friends were few, and she’d learned that recognizing them when they showed up was important. Key, even. And, despite the way they ribbed each other, or maybe because of it, it appeared Sawyer thought a great deal of him, too. “I will,” she told him.

He patted the roof of her car, then stepped back. “Safe travels, plant lady.”

She grinned and put her car into gear. “Vine on, llama guy.”

He grinned, lifted a hand in a short wave, then shifted it to his ear and made the universal “call me” sign again.

She laughed, thinking if things were different, she might have done just that. She could use a little walk on the wild side. Or any side, she thought. She backed out of her spot and did a tricky little three-point turn in the narrow dirt lot, then, not entirely certain she’d ever be coming back out here again, gave the rearview mirror a quick glance. That was when she saw Bailey, standing in the open sliding door to the mill. She wasn’t smiling, but she didn’t look upset, either.

Without thinking about it, Sunny lowered her car window and stuck her arm out. Lifting her hand as high as she could, she waved as she turned toward the country road that would take her back down the mountain, back to civilization, back to the life she knew. The only one she’d ever known.

Bailey simply stared, so, feeling a little awkward, Sunny pulled her arm back in, rolled up the window, and turned onto the road. It wasn’t until she glanced back, one last time, when Bailey probably thought she wasn’t looking any longer, that the young girl lifted her hand from her side, just a smidge . . . and waved back.

Sunny almost braked the car right there to turn around, but then Sawyer came out of the mill and stood beside Bailey. He motioned behind the mill toward the woods, and the two of them started off in that direction. Sawyer didn’t look her way, and Bailey never looked back. They’d moved on.

Good, she told herself. That’s good. Sawyer will be there for her.

Sunny didn’t glance over to where Seth had been standing. Whatever little buzz his attentions had given her was gone now. Instead, she headed back down the mountain, then away from the Blue Ridge, until she couldn’t see any hint of the mountains in her rearview mirror. She looked forward to getting back to the city, back to the world she knew. Her world.

She didn’t let herself think about the little pang she’d felt, seeing Sawyer and Bailey stroll off together. Without her.