CHAPTER TEN

PEPPER

"Pepper, I can't tell you how much I appreciate this." 

Solomon held out the cash for me in his tattooed hand and accepted the container I gave to him in the other. 

"It's no problem," I told him. "I really hope your father-in-law feels better. Make sure he tries small pieces first and waits a couple of hours before taking more."

"Maybe I'll test-drive one first," he said with a smirk and a wink. "I'll bring your container back to you." 

"Don't worry about it. I have tons," I assured him. 

"No, trust me. Natalie will wash it and ensure that I return what doesn't belong to me," he said with a chuckle. 

"Give her my best," I said warmly. "Oh, and here." I held out a small paper bag. "Some extra sweet cherries for the kids."

"Now you're just spoiling them," he cracked but accepted the bag from me. "Thanks. You're getting the first pick of that sauvignon blanc once we bottle it next week." 

"Sounds good to me!" With the hottest days of summer approaching, a chilled glass of white wine sounded absolutely heavenly. "Take care, Sol."

Just as his large, tattooed form turned and stepped off my patio, I noticed the cloud of dust created by the approaching car in the driveway. 

It was Reagan's signature Bentley SUV, once black but lately more of a tan color from all the dust it accumulated from my property. 

My heart bounced against my ribs, as it seemed to do more often lately when he showed up. 

He'd been coming over and working tirelessly almost every day of the last week. I held my breath every time he did, wondering if this was the time he'd say what he actually wanted, the real reason why he was doing this when he surely had rich-people things to do.

But he always left without asking for anything and always refused money when I offered to pay him. With how fast and efficiently he worked for free, I was already saving a fortune and had more breathing room, money wise.

I also realized how much I was starting to enjoy his company, as much as I hated to admit it. 

He was funny and charming, always teasing me but never in a way that was truly insulting. I felt at ease and relaxed around him, rather than self-conscious about the massive differences between us. We had more in common than I thought was possible.  

And Bonny was nothing short of in love with him. She'd been sleeping in the house while Solomon was here, but darted out the doggy door with her tail wagging furiously when Reagan's car approached.

Still, a strange feeling twisted inside me. I felt uncomfortable about feeling so comfortable with him, if that made any sense. 

I didn't want to start liking a rich guy. I didn't want to become my mom. 

The last thing I ever wanted to do was betray my dad's dying wish and leave this farm to die with him. To leave four generations of hard work and careful maintenance of this land for a fast, easy life that would probably leave me miserable in so many other ways. 

Not that Reagan had ever spent a dime on me yet, or indicated he wanted to whisk me away.

Stop getting ahead of yourself. It's a crush. You've had these before. Get over it. 

Something curious happened as Reagan stepped out of his car.

As he and Solomon passed each other, they locked eyes and seemed to circle each other slowly, like a couple of boxers in a ring. No words were exchanged but it wouldn’t have looked unusual at all if they growled at each other like two alpha wolves from rival packs. 

And just as quickly as the moment began, it ended. 

Solomon got into his car and Reagan ascended the steps of my porch with Bonny glued to his side and begging for ear scratches. 

“What was he doing here?” Reagan asked, his tone calm but bordering on demanding. 

I raised an eyebrow. 

“Hello to you, too,” I replied, ignoring his question and crossing my arms defiantly. 

“Was he bothering you?” 

His voice turned gruff, his eyes sharp and not moving from me. My skin prickled with the heat of his gaze. Heat pooled between my legs as I realized he was being territorial, if even protective of me. It should have annoyed me but for some reason, I found it incredibly sexy.  

“Yeah, that’s why I sent him off with a bag of cherries and baked goods,” I answered sarcastically. “No, we’re neighbors. Just being neighborly.” 

Reagan’s lip curled with distaste. 

“I get a bad vibe from him. Just be careful.” 

“Please,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “Your jealousy is completely unfounded.” 

“I’m not jealous,” he barked defensively. “You’re just… all alone up here. And a good few minutes outside of town. This farm could be an easy target for shady characters. Just be vigilant is all I’m saying.” 

“I have nothing of value up here,” I replied, also defensively. “And no one from town would dare fuck with me. You think you’re the only one who’s seen my gun?” 

“Forget I said anything, then.” Reagan raised his hands in defeat. “So you got any work for me?”

“Not really,” I admitted. “You’ve been such a workhorse all week, I don’t have much left to do this evening.”

Reagan’s grin made my heart skip a beat. 

“Speaking of guns, how about some fun then?” 

He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a black handgun.  

Any other girl from any other place probably would've been frightened. Your average twenty-four-year-old woman probably never saw a real gun in her life before. 

But me? 

I just smiled and felt warmth spreading throughout my chest. Giddy excitement in the form of a giggle threatened to spill from my mouth. 

"You got ammo for that thing?" I asked coyly. 

He produced a box from his other pocket, which made a metallic sound when he shook it. 

"You got targets?" he asked, returning my coy smile.

"I could probably scrape something together." 

Right about then, he put a lethal target on my heart. 

***

A half hour later, we had set up cans and glass bottles on the fence posts that bordered the back of my property. I tested out Reagan's gun, a 9mm Glock, while he tested out my rifle. 

"Damn, this thing is accurate!" he exclaimed as he shot another clean hole through a metal soup can. "I gotta get me one of these." 

"Yeah, hell of a lot more accurate than yours," I muttered. Handguns were never my strong point. It was a lot harder to fire accurately from a smaller package. 

"Here, let me help." 

Reagan flicked the safety on my rifle and laid it down on a tree stump. He came up next to me. Very, very close next to me. His clean, expensive scent filled my lungs and his presence overwhelmed me. 

"Straighten your arms out," he said, gently pushing up on my elbows. "And widen out your base. Since you don't need to support the barrel with your hand, make your whole body as square and stable as possible."

I spread my feet out wider and took aim again. Reagan moved behind me and my core flooded with warmth. How was I supposed to concentrate with him so close like that? He didn't touch me but the air between us crackled with electricity. A few inches closer and his crotch would be pressing up against my ass. 

I swallowed and inhaled as I tried to focus on the sight in front of me. With a slow exhale I squeezed the trigger. The glass bottle exploded in what looked like white smoke from this distance. 

"There you go!" Reagan's voice cried triumphantly in my ear. "Much better."

I smiled at my victory.

"When did you learn to shoot?" I asked him. 

"When I was about eight," he replied. "You?"

"Same age," I answered. "Killed and ate my first rabbit then, although I mostly shot to scare away raccoons and coyotes." 

Reagan smiled humorlessly. I couldn't read the expression in his eyes. 

"I stole my dad's gun and used it to stop him from beating the shit out of me. But I just grazed his shoulder and pissed him off even more." 

My face fell and my stomach twisted into agonizing knots for him. 

"Holy shit. I'm so sorry." 

He shrugged as he picked up the rifle again. 

"Don't be. I'm grateful to the bastard. He was the best motivation I had to get the hell out of that crack house and get my real estate license."

For a moment I felt the massive divide between us again. Not because of money this time, but our family lives. I would’ve given anything to have my dad back. Reagan sounded like he would’ve been happy to piss on his old man’s grave.

“My dad was tough on me,” I said quietly. “If I were a boy, he would’ve treated me no differently. But I knew he loved me. He did it to teach me to be strong.” 

Reagan paused from wiping the rifle with a cloth. 

“Your dad did good,” he said gently, his eyes matching the greenery that surrounded us. “He raised you well and you’re lucky you had him. Mine never cared about anything but his next fix.” 

He looked at me with amusement sparkling in his eyes and my breath felt stolen from my body by how handsome he was.

“The old bastard still has the nerve to ask me for money. I’ve never given him a dime, of course.”

“Really?” I asked, genuinely surprised. “Not even for rehab or anything like that?”

“He doesn’t want rehab,” Reagan said bitterly. “He doesn’t want to become a better person. No, all that manipulative asshole wants is a high.” His eyes flashed angrily. “It’s unfortunate that we’re blood-related. If it weren’t for that, he’d be absolutely nothing to me.” 

“I guess that’s kind of how I feel about my mother,” I admitted, lowering to sit down on the tree stump next to him. “I wonder if she ever really loved us or just used my dad until she was bored and ready for her next adventure.” 

Reagan reached out and touched my arm. It was a simple, comforting and platonic touch but also so much more. Our eyes locked and his touch lingered. 

“It’s the negative experiences that make or break us,” he said solemnly. “They either make you stronger and push you to do better, or they expose the weakness that was always inside you. I think you and I are the first kinds of people.” 

I leaned into his touch without even realizing it. Nothing else had ever resonated with me so much since before Dad passed away.

He was absolutely right. Everything from childhood bullying to Mom leaving to Dad’s passing shook me to the point of feeling like crumbling. But I still got up every single day, scratched my dog’s ears, got my work done, and smiled at my neighbors. 

When I looked at Reagan, I could see that he did the same thing day after day, no matter what happened to him. 

And that opened my heart up for the first time in what felt like centuries.