Chapter Eleven
Why did she even bother? Beth trudged back to the barn, feeling like an idiot for trying to talk to Mr. Fix-It at all. He obviously had the conversational skills of a monkey, but she’d kept asking him questions, as if at some point he’d quit with the perfunctory answers and actually share something about himself.
Beth made her way to where the crowd had started to gather around the food. They hadn’t even rung a bell or anything; just the smell of the burgers lured people in from all different parts of the farm.
Callie met her by one of the food tables, eyes wide, waiting for some explanation. She’d been the one to talk Beth into taking Drew the plate in the first place.
So this was her fault, really.
Beth felt stupid. A serial killer? Really? Just because he was grumpy and reclusive didn’t mean he was a sociopath. And even though she’d been half kidding, her sarcasm seemed lost in his reaction.
“No-go?” Callie followed her into the kitchen.
“What do you mean?” Beth reached into a bag of potato chips and took out a handful.
“He didn’t want to talk? Tell you where he’s from? Ask you to marry him?” Callie plucked a chip out of Beth’s hand and popped it in her mouth.
“I just gave him lunch,” Beth said. “Isn’t that what you said I should do?”
Callie stared at her. “Yes, but I thought maybe you’d exchange a few words with the guy before you came back here.”
“I did.”
“So, what do we know about him?”
“I know he’s working harder than anyone here.” Beth glanced up and out the window to where Drew stood with his dog. He stared out toward the backyard, up into the orchard, seemingly unaware anyone else was on the farm at all.
What was he doing out there? What was he doing here, at Fairwind? And why was he helping them—two strangers—with an insurmountable task?
Callie stole another chip. “I resent that. Do you know how long it took me to bake all those pastries?”
“You know what I mean.” Beth leaned against the counter. “It’s like he’s out there trying to prove something.”
Callie waggled her eyebrows. “Who does that sound like?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she walked out, leaving Beth with a handful of chips and an unspoken snarky comeback.
She spent the rest of the day avoiding Drew Barlow. Never mind that it made no sense he was there in the first place. Or that he didn’t have good manners.
The guy never stopped—not once. Even when he took his dog out back for water, he still seemed to work, or at least calculate his work. He moved from job to job without being told, and as much as she hated to admit it, it became painfully obvious that she and Molly needed someone like him on the farm.
He fixed things she didn’t even know were broken.
As the day waned, people began to leave, all dirty and tired but asking if they could come back the next weekend. The Whitaker sisters had free labor in droves and no idea how to put them to work.
Molly promised everyone another productive day next Saturday, but Beth knew better. Clearing the land of fallen branches and garbage was easy. But what came next? They needed someone to tell them.
Beth stood at the door of the main barn, watching cars kick up dust from the gravel driveway as they pulled away. Behind the house, Molly and Bishop had started a bonfire, having invited everyone to go home and change and come back for s’mores.
Sometimes Molly was such a kid. Sometimes that made Beth jealous.
“You need to hire that guy.” Ben’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts.
“What guy?” She knew what guy.
“The guy you’ve been pretending not to notice all day.” He stood beside her, a foot taller and almost twice as wide. Her big brother—strong and athletic—had taken their father’s place in so many ways. He had wisdom, and Beth admired that. She couldn’t simply disregard his advice.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Ben’s disbelieving expression told her to stop lying. “I talked to him. He manages a ranch in Colorado. Manages people, takes care of animals, fixes whatever needs fixing. He’s your guy.”
“Well, what makes you think he’d take a job on a farm in Illinois?”
He shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt to ask.”
Beth sighed. “What else do you know about him?”
“Not much. He’s not a talker, which is better for you.”
Better for her? Hardly.
“I can tell by watching him that he knows what he’s doing.”
Beth followed Ben’s gaze out to the parking lot, where Molly ran toward Drew and Roxie, undoubtedly begging them to come back for the bonfire. No way a guy like that had any interest in socializing with the Willow Grove locals.
Or with her.
Not that it mattered. What did she care if some grumpy cowboy wanted to talk to her or not?
She turned to Ben. “I agree, and I think we need someone to help us, but why can’t that be you?”
Ben was safe. He was a well-known quantity—and didn’t have the potential to break her heart.
He took off his baseball cap and ran a hand through his hair. “Honestly, I’m intrigued by the whole idea. I’m going to invest, but I’m two hours away, Beth. I can’t get back here every day, and that’s what this place needs if you have any hope of reopening in the next year.”
She bumped into his shoulder with her own. “You’re going to invest?”
He held up a hand. “On one condition.”
“Uh-oh.” She turned to him. “What?”
He nodded at Drew. “You hire that guy.”
Beth watched as Drew turned and walked away from Molly, his dog close on his heels.
“We don’t even know him, Ben. He’s going to get in his old truck and drive away and we’ll never see him again.” She hoped so, anyway.
Kind of.
“Then I guess you’d better stop him.”
“Are you serious?”
“You need someone around here to spearhead this little project.”
She knew there was nothing little about it. But this guy? Really? Couldn’t they just find someone in town? Someone less attractive?
Beth took a deep breath but couldn’t get her feet to move. “I’ll think about it.”
But they both knew he was right. They needed Drew Barlow if they had any hope of restoring Fairwind Farm and opening by fall. And the thought of needing any man—let alone a distant cowboy with bad social skills—didn’t sit well with her at all.