“I think you missed a spot.”

I pointed my finger near the bottom of the wall above the baseboard. Just low enough he had to lean forward, but high enough it didn’t make sense for him to crouch down. The perfect spot to put his perfect ass on display.

Tucker threw me a knowing look over his shoulder.

“I charge extra for this kind of harassment.” As he bent over wetting his paint roller, I wet my lips.

“What harassment?” I feigned innocence as I drooled. I crossed my legs, dangling my Tory Burch flip-flop, fighting back the ache between them. The last few days of him working on the house had been even more agonizing than before we had sex. I had to constantly remind myself I needed him to spend more time nailing down the new hardwood floors and less time nailing me.

“The sexual harassment.”

“Please.” I hid my guilty smile, taking a sip of the iced latte from Ida’s he’d brought me. “I just want to make sure the job is done right. I’m paying you good money for this work.”

“Painting was not part of the deal. Remember? You were supposed to be doing this yourself.”

I tapped my finger to my lips as I looked toward the ceiling. “Hmmm…you know…I don’t think I recall that at all.” I lowered my eyes back to him, suppressing a smile.

The next thing I knew he was darting at me with the paint roller. I jumped from my seat at the kitchen table, squealing through the house as he chased me.

He cornered me in the laundry room, roller held high, Agreeable Gray paint dripping from it. It would not be so ‘agreeable’ on my designer sundress.

“Don’t come any closer,” I warned with my palms facing out in front of me. “This is a one of a kind dress gifted to me from an Italian designer.” I took the last step I could, pressing my back to the wall.

He smirked. Mischievously. Torment in his eyes. Not heeding my warning whatsoever, he took one step closer.

“I mean it.”

Another step.

“This one’s irreplaceable.”

Step.

“I’ll never forgive you.”

Step.

My hands pressed against his hard, shirtless chest, holding him at bay as I clenched my eyes shut. My heart pounded wildly with lust and anticipation as his body trapped me further. When nothing happened, I opened one eye. His cold, wet finger slowly slid the length of my nose, leaving a paint streak in its path, the roller abandoned on top of the dryer.

“You’ll pay for that.”

He leaned in slowly, his arm steady against the wall above my head. “I’m counting on it.” He winked.

Those words, that wink, were all I could stand. I flung myself around him, paint and dress long forgotten. The previous few days and hours of taunting and teasing had reached a breaking point. He gripped my thigh, hiking my leg around his hip while pushing my dress up my waist. I greedily worked at his zipper as he assaulted me with his soft lips and skilled hands.

Thank God he’d chosen to go commando. His fingers hooked into my panties seconds before I heard them rip. I didn’t even care. I was too desperate to have him inside me. I took him in my hands, guiding his entrance as my body slid up the wall, the steady thrusts of his hips building a surge within me. My legs locked around him, freeing his hands to roam, maneuver, and manipulate.

He pushed the straps of my dress aside, kissing along my bare shoulder into the crook of my neck, his mouth hot and hungry. I held on, digging my fingers into his muscular back, nipping at his ear, a glorious, aggressive tension surmounting at my core.

“Fuck,” he growled, picking up his pace. “You’re so fucking perfect, Lottie.” He continued to screw me into the wall, our tongues a tangled mess as he swallowed my moans until we both erupted.

We fell to the floor, a lump of satisfied limbs. He held me to his heaving chest as our breathing calmed, his hand grazing from side to side on my shoulder blades. He kissed the top of my head—the gesture almost too much. Too honest. Too meaningful. The words I love you on the tip of my tongue when they had no business being there.

It was sex. That was all. My mind and body were simply confused in the euphoric afterglow.

* * *

I sat on the front porch, my toes barely touching the boards as I pushed off, lazily rocking in the chair. Tucker had left for the day, needing to go home to take care of Lily. I was using his absence to catch up on some work emails. His presence had been a constant distraction during the day. I was surprised at how fast he was coming along with the house. The kitchen was nearly done. All that was left was installing the new black granite countertops, the farmhouse sink, and new stainless steel appliances. I couldn’t wait to see how it all came together with the off-white cabinets that were installed earlier in the week.

The whole kitchen looked bigger since he opened up the wall and put in a custom-made island. It almost pained me to sell it after seeing how beautiful everything was turning out. He was really talented. His love for construction and building was something new I hadn’t known about him before. I never knew he had any desire to do anything but run the family farm.

My thoughts were pulled from Tucker when I looked up at an unfamiliar truck coming up the drive. I set my laptop aside, standing to see who my unexpected visitor was. It wasn’t until he appeared around the hood of the truck that my whole world came crashing down. My stomach on the floor.

“Hey, sweetie. How ya been?”

His cocksure smile had me crossing my arms over my body, slinging my hip to the side. I needed to be on defense with this man.

“What are you doing here?”

“What? I can’t stop by and see my one and only, beautiful daughter?”

He shrugged his shoulders as if this was an everyday occurrence. As if we had the typical father-daughter relationship. The one I could only imagine what would feel like.

“You haven’t bothered coming to see or talk to me in thirteen years, Dad. You didn’t even make it to my high school graduation. And why was that, father? Oh”—I snapped my fingers and pointed mockingly—“that’s right. You were too busy taking your new wife to Hawaii. What number are you on now? Wife number four or is it five? I can never seem to keep up.”

“Now, Lottie”—he tried using his firm fatherly tone— “I get that you may be upset. Especially with the loss of your mother recently, but—”

“Upset? Upset. Don’t flatter yourself. I’m no longer upset with you, Dad. I don’t give a damn. You stopped being my father the moment you walked out that door, leaving Mom to fend for herself. In fact, you stopped being a father long before that, the same way you stopped being a husband.”

“Fine. We don’t have to do this father-daughter reunion if you don’t want to. I’m more than happy to skip it and get right down to business.”

“What business?”

“I came here to buy the farm from you. I’ll offer you a fair price, of course—”

“Let me just stop you right there. No.”

“No?” His head cocked back. Disbelief was written all over his weathered features, years of working in the sun finally catching up to him. His hair had grayed since I’d last seen him. Otherwise he was the same. The same self-centered bastard who couldn’t care less about me. He was still handsome for an older man. Unfortunately. Between that and his charming smile, he was able to play so many women for fools.

“Yes, no. There’s no way in hell I’d ever sell this farm to you. You may have bullied Mom into removing her family name on that gate, but the only Davis this farm will ever belong to is me.”

“Don’t be unreasonable, Lottie. You have no business trying to manage this farm on your own. Your mother couldn’t handle it and neither can you.”

Rage shot through my trembling body, my jaw clenching, teeth grinding. “Get off my property.”

“Just listen to me, sweetie—”

“Leave.” I pointed a finger down the road. “And never call me sweetie again. Better yet, never talk to me again. You managed that for over a decade. It shouldn’t be too hard for you now.”

“Now, wait just a minute.” He raised a hand, trying to calm me like a rabid dog. It wasn’t too far off base. I was ready to tear him to shreds.

“I mean it, Edgar.” I used his birth name out of spite. Because yeah, he hated it, which was why he only went by Ed. The one thing we had in common. “Get off my farm before I call the sheriff.”

“You’re just as difficult and stubborn as your mother.”

“Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment. Should I start dialing?” I held up my phone, waving it in his face.

“Shit. Fine. I’m going.” He stomped back to his truck, leaving me with his final parting words. “Don’t come crying to me when you realize you’re in over your head.”

“No worries there, Edgar!”

He slammed his door before peeling out down the road. I watched. And waited. Waited for him to be far enough where he could no longer see me. Then I gave in. Allowing my legs to weaken, I gripped the banister, sinking down to sit on the top step. And only then did I cry. I cried an ugly, body-quaking cry with my face buried in my hands.

I had no family left. And even though that man didn’t deserve to be in my life, it still hurt to tell him just that. It hurt even more knowing the reason he came here. He didn’t come for me, he came for greed. I’d figured out a long time ago he likely only married my mother for her family’s assets. I wasn’t even sure he ever truly loved her or me.

I picked myself up off the porch, deeming I’d cried enough over my sperm donor. I walked inside, needing a shower to wash away the revolting feeling of sharing blood with that man.

Plus, it would be the last night I’d have a functioning shower for a few days. Tucker planned on demolishing the seventies baby blue bathroom fixtures in the morning. He’d arranged for me to use Grams’ house to bathe and said he’d leave the toilet installed until he had the new one delivered.

After my mildly warm shower, I strolled out of the bathroom, taking a seat on the end of my bed, drying the strands of my hair. I stared blankly at my suitcase. I hadn’t bothered unpacking. I kept telling myself there was no need.

There was an urge brewing inside me as I continued to stare at it. A desperation starting to boil over, ignited by my father’s visit. I needed some answers. I needed some closure with my other parent. I stood up bending over my suitcase, digging through my clothes to find what I needed. I pulled out the large manila envelope. Walking back to my bed, I took a seat, curling my legs under me. I’d already returned the necessary paperwork to Mr. Daniels, being very careful to avoid the letter my mother had left.

I slipped my hand inside, retrieving the small white envelope. The one that smelled like her perfume. I slipped a finger under the seal, delicately opening it. I took a deep breath. Then three more before pulling out and unfolding my mother’s final thoughts and words to me.

My Dearest Lottie,

If you’re reading this, then that can mean only one thing—I didn’t survive long enough to get the heart transplant or tell you I was dying. I know you’re probably wondering why. I know you’re probably hurt from my omission. And honestly, I’m not even sure I made the right decision. Regardless, I’m hoping when I explain why, it will make it a little easier to understand. And for you to forgive me.

The truth is, Lottie, I wanted to tell you. But I wouldn’t. I couldn’t bear you coming home and watching me die. I knew you would. Regardless of how strained our relationship had become over the years, I knew you’d never leave me to die alone.

I made some terrible decisions as a mother. I know that now. I realized that when it was too late. I wish I’d figured out sooner keeping your father around was only hurting you. For many years, I turned a blind eye to all his affairs because I thought it was what was best for you. I was young and foolish, thinking having a cheating father in your life was better than not having one at all. It wasn’t until your senior year that I realized what that was doing to you and to our relationship. So I finally kicked him out.

It was too late, though. You’d already been hurt and damaged by our poor examples as parents. You left this farm and all the bad memories you held with it. And maybe the one person who could show you true love and happiness. So I kept this from you. I knew you being here as I died would just be another hurtful memory to add to the huge pile. I couldn’t allow you to have one more bad association with our home.

The farm has been a part of our family for hundreds of years. And I’m hoping you will change your mind about letting it go. It’s your home, Lottie. And whatever you decide to do with it is up to you. I will understand either way, but I can’t say I don’t hope you will keep it. Hope you will give it a chance to redeem itself—to build new memories. Happy ones. Ones that outweigh the bad. Give it and yourself the life you both deserve. Call it the last bit of a dying woman’s hope for you.

I love you, my sweet girl. And I’m sorry for all the wrong I’ve done and heartache I’ve caused you.

I have only one more favor to ask of you. Please spread my ashes near the stream, the same as we did for Mimi and Papa and all our loved ones before us.

Take care of yourself, darling. I will miss you.

Until we meet again,

Mom

A tear dripped from my chin, landing at the bottom of the page, the ink from her signature bleeding and blurring. I wiped my face, folding and tucking the letter back in the envelope for safe-keeping. I picked up my laptop, typing out a new email. I reread it twice before pushing send. My request would be delivered and read in the morning by my boss. I couldn’t return to Seattle just yet. I never thought I’d say this, but I needed more time. Between Tucker, my father’s visit, and my mother’s letter, there were some things I needed to process.