Chapter Twenty-Six
Beth sat on the steps, trying to calm her competitive self down after the adrenaline rush of racing Drew back to the farm. If she could look like she’d been waiting a while by the time he finally arrived, all the better.
When his truck appeared on the gravel road, she steadied her breathing, certain it would be her last chance to do so until she left the farm that night.
“What kind of crazy driver are you?” He flashed one of his rare, genuine smiles. A part of her felt honored he’d saved it for her.
Unlike Beth, who was serious by nature, Drew had a playfulness about him. She saw it sometimes in their back-and-forth banter, but he always seemed to catch himself and shut it down. Like he didn’t think it was right to show her (or anyone else) that side of himself.
But then, didn’t she do the same, always insisting on being professional and proper? Hadn’t that earned her the Ice Queen nickname? She drove people away.
“My dad used to drag race.” Beth attempted to keep her tone light. “You challenged the wrong girl.”
“I guess so.” He stopped when he reached her, hands on his hips, and took a moment to size her up. “You knew a shortcut, didn’t you?”
Beth couldn’t keep the grin from spreading across her face. “Who knew being a hometown girl would have its advantages?”
He shook his head. “I want a rematch.” He stepped closer, as if challenging her to a duel.
She steeled her chin, stubborn as she was. “Anytime.”
His eyes searched hers, then found her lips, sending a rush of nerves through her entire body. She hadn’t dated anyone since Michael. Told herself she preferred it that way, but the truth was, she was scared. She couldn’t go through that kind of heartbreak again.
Then there was the fact that nobody had asked her out.
Molly said it was because she was too intimidating, but Beth had begun to wonder. Was she really so unlovable?
Not the time to think about that. She should worry about much more important things, like whether or not she even remembered how to kiss—because she very much wanted to kiss Drew Barlow right now.
But as the thoughts swirled around in her head, he looked away and started toward the house. “Burgers okay?”
She swallowed her disappointment.
Get it together, Beth.
“Sounds good to me.” She followed him inside.
There, she watched Drew wash and dry his hands, then begin preparing the burgers for the grill.
“Do you like roasted vegetables?” she asked, begging the heat in her cheeks to cool down.
He glanced at her, but his smile seemed forced. “Sounds great.”
An awkwardness passed between them. Did he regret asking her to lunch? Why did she have to overanalyze this? Why couldn’t they be friends and be fine with that? Did it matter that she’d never in her life had a male friend she was so attracted to?
Maybe that was the problem. She needed to figure out a way to be less attracted to him.
“I’ll get the vegetables.” She made a beeline for the refrigerator. Her mind searched for something wrong with him. Something that would make him seem less perfect. There had to be something.
She peeked into the living room, hoping for a mess, but everything was in its place. At the kitchen window, where she washed and peeled potatoes and carrots, she caught a glimpse of him standing at the grill. Chiseled features. Dark hair. Blue eyes. And then there was the way he’d listened as she’d unloaded her whole humiliating admission.
He now knew more about her than her own family.
And that scared her to death.
Because while a part of her seemed to need this man—something she absolutely hadn’t planned on—a part of him still seemed so far away.
“You okay?”
He’d come back in through the side door. She looked down and realized she’d been standing in the same spot, holding the same potato for probably two full minutes.
“Fine.” She hurried up and peeled the rest of the vegetables, cut them, tossed them in olive oil, salt and pepper, then spread them out on a cookie sheet to bake.
Drew leaned against the counter, finished off a bottle of water and tossed the empty container in the garbage can.
“I wanted to thank you for all the work you’ve been doing around here,” Beth said, anxious to fill the silence.
“You’ve thanked me plenty. I’m happy to do it.” He looked comfortable with his arms crossed in front of him, his worn gray T-shirt fitted enough to show the definition in his arms. Silence didn’t seem to unnerve him the way it did her. In fact, he seemed to prefer it.
Maddening when she wanted nothing more than to hear what he thought about as he was hauling, painting, finishing, restoring . . .
She shifted, uncomfortable under the weight of his gaze. “I’m trying to be better about appreciating people who deserve it.”
He studied her, almost too intently. “Better than what?”
She swallowed. This was called stupid conversation. She didn’t need to get into every single one of her fatal flaws in the same day.
He waited until their eyes met again. “I feel appreciated.”
She nodded, searching for something—anything—to say, but the only question she really wanted answered was one she wouldn’t ask again.
Why are you here?
He’d tell her when he was ready.
Or maybe never.
Either way, she couldn’t force him to trust her with whatever it was he wouldn’t say. Some things a person had to work out on their own. Even if they didn’t know it at the time.
And some things, a person didn’t want to admit to, no matter how much time passed.
Drew seemed to understand that. He never made her say more than she was ready to say. She would try to offer him the same courtesy.
“The grill should be hot enough,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “I’ll get the burgers on.” He vanished onto the patio through the side door, giving her a few minutes to compose herself. She pulled two plates down from the cupboard, gathered silverware and two cans of Coke and headed outside.
“I thought we’d eat out here?” Beth stood on the patio, wondering if Drew knew how handsome he was or if he was one of those guys who didn’t think about it. It all seemed pretty effortless—his clothes, his hair, his five o’clock shadow.
A refreshing change.
Michael had been so into his looks, sometimes she felt like he was the girl in the relationship.
“It’s a nice day for it,” Drew said. “Though it feels like rain.”
“I would never wish away the rain,” Beth said, thinking of the orchard, “but I’d be awfully happy if it held off till after we ate.”
“Agreed.” Drew returned to the grill while Beth set the little café table on the patio with the plates and silverware, suddenly aware that this meal felt more formal than their usual grab-something-from-the-fridge-and-stand-on-the-porch-to-eat-it meals. Typically, they talked business as they ate thrown-together sandwiches and chips straight from the bag, and often, they were surrounded by other people.
There she went, overthinking again. What difference did it make if they sat at a table to eat? This was just lunch with a friend.
A very, very good-looking friend.
When the oven timer went off, she pulled the pan of vegetables from inside, sprinkled them with Parmesan, dumped them into a serving bowl and grabbed a container of potato salad from the refrigerator. She came back outside and found Drew standing at the table, a plate of burgers in his hand.
“It smells good,” she said.
They sat down, and she became even more aware that they were now expected to carry on a conversation until the food in front of them was gone.
How was she going to do that?
The lunch started off quiet, and Beth searched her mind for topics he might not find eye-gougingly boring, surprised when he cleared his throat and started the conversation himself.
“You still thinking about an investor?” he asked between bites.
“Only if we have to. I’m trying to set up a meeting with this Davis Biddle guy so I can figure out what he really wants.” Beth had spent too many hours pondering why someone like Davis would pay for the upkeep of the orchard, and when she came up empty, she’d decided to set up an appointment and ask him outright. No sense speculating when he kept popping up in their plans.
Drew swallowed a bite of his first burger. “I’ll go with you.”
She paused midbite. “You will?”
“If it’s okay with you.”
“Of course, but it’s not necessary.” Beth knew she needed Drew on the farm, but the business side of things she could handle.
“I know it’s not,” he said. “But I’d like to size the guy up for myself, if it’s all the same to you.”
She laughed. “Don’t trust my judgment?”
“Don’t trust him.”
Beth watched as Drew started in on his second burger. “You don’t?”
He shrugged. “Something doesn’t sit right about it, is all. I kind of feel invested in this place myself, but I won’t give you my opinion unless you ask for it.”
For the first time in her life, it didn’t bother her one bit that a man insisted on protecting her. She found something about it rather charming, actually. Chivalrous.
“You’re a walking mystery,” she said before she could stop herself.
He met her eyes. “Funny, I’ve thought the same thing about you.”
She took a sip of her soda. “You have?”
“When I first got here, you seemed kind of out of place on the farm.”
She swallowed her bite. “That’s an understatement.”
“But now, I don’t know, something about it suits you.”
When had she turned into this person? Someone who admired chivalry in a man and whose big dream was to plant her own vegetables? Was this really who she wanted to become?
This thing they were doing, restoring this farm—could Drew be right? Could this be the “more” she’d been searching for?
He picked up her hand and stroked it with his thumb. “And you’ve got a mean right hook.”
She was keenly aware of his skin on hers.
Drew set her hand down, but kept his eyes on her. “Kind of seems like you found whatever it was you were looking for around here.”
She forced herself to hold his gaze. He already knew so much about her. By comparison, she knew so little about him.
“What is it you’re looking for?”
He looked away, silence hanging between them. In her mind, she willed him to answer her—to trust her enough to let her in on the thing that made him work so hard.
Instead, he pushed himself away from the table. “I’ll get these out of the way.”
She stayed still as he cleared the table and disappeared into the kitchen.
Was he kidding?
She’d told him everything—things Callie didn’t even know. Did he think it was easy for her to open up about any of that?
Before she gave it too much thought, she stood and walked into the kitchen, where she found him rinsing dishes at the sink.
“Do you know how frustrating you are?” The words came out angrier than she’d intended.
He turned off the water and looked at her, but she didn’t give him a chance to respond.
“You’ve been here over a month, and I know as much about you today as I did the day you got here.”
He dried his hands and leaned back against the counter, facing her but still quiet.
“I’ve never told anyone what happened with my dad or my job. Nobody knows about any of that stuff, Drew. Do you know how hard it was for me to tell you that?”
Never mind the relief she’d felt as soon as she had. She’d been holding it all in far too long—but he didn’t need to know the gratitude she felt for his willing ear.
“You can’t answer a single personal question. You change the subject or, worse, you get up and walk away. I’m trying here, Drew, but it seems like you don’t want me to know you at all.”
“Are you asking as my boss?”
“What difference does that make?”
“Didn’t know an employer needed all that personal information, is all.”
It stung. She tried to keep her face from crumpling, from letting her weakness show. Her eyes found the floor. “I get it.”
She’d misinterpreted everything. Let herself daydream one too many times.
Straightening, she lifted her chin and met his eyes. “I get it,” she repeated softly.
He watched her, a little too closely, shaking her resolve.
“I should go.”
But as she turned toward the door, he grabbed the sleeve of her sweatshirt, pulling her toward him. Her breath caught in her throat, and his hands found the sides of her face. Drew’s eyes searched hers, and she could see it then—he was looking for something, but he didn’t know what it was. A desperation there gave him away—he was lost.
“Drew, I—”
He inched closer, brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, silencing her. “I’m not very good with words.”
In that moment, the world went quiet, and it was just the two of them, standing in the kitchen, their bodies only inches apart. He pulled her in, closing the gap between them, and kissed her—the kind of knee-buckling kiss she’d replay a thousand times.
He stopped abruptly and pulled back, looking into her eyes again. “I don’t really want to be polite.”
She swallowed, her lower lip trembling. “Then don’t be.”
With her hands pressed on his chest, she could feel his heartbeat, racing to match her own. He moved away from the counter, leading her backward until the wall behind her stopped them.
Her breaths came more quickly now. He leaned into her, hands pressed against the wall behind her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting his lips on hers.
He kissed her again, anxious and hungry, leaving her breathless and bewildered. Then he pulled back, giving her time to recover, to inhale the scent of him, to wish he’d go back to kissing her.
“Why are you really here, Drew?” The words came without her permission.
He rested his forehead on hers, lips close enough to be kissed.
“What is it you’re looking for?” Maybe she could help him. Maybe she could carry some of his burden—if only he let her in.
He straightened, still studying her face, but said nothing. He couldn’t tell her. Whatever it was, it either didn’t have a name or he hadn’t found a way to put it into words. She should’ve kept her mouth shut. Pressing him had only forced him to retreat back into himself.
And now it was too late.
She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” He wrapped his arms around her, kissed the top of her head. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Finally.
Please don’t let him be a serial killer. Or married. Please don’t let him be married.
But before he could get a single word out, the sound of tires on gravel pulled their attention outside.
“Are you expecting someone?” she asked.
“I don’t know anyone here, remember?”
She went to the window and saw Molly’s VW Bug speeding toward them—really, much too fast. “It’s Molly.” Beth looked around, tidying up the kitchen, as if there was evidence of what had just happened between her and Drew all over the room.
“What are you doing?” He watched her, looking perfectly calm.
She could feel the blood race up her neck and across her cheeks.
Before she could answer, Molly barged into the house, and Beth said a silent prayer of thanks it wasn’t three minutes earlier.
“Beth! You are not going to believe this.”
Bishop trailed close behind her. He stuck a hand out toward Drew, who shook it.
“Good to see you again, Mr. Barlow,” Bishop said.
“You too, Officer.”
“Will you guys stop with the niceties?” Molly said. “This is important.” Molly waved a stack of manila folders in the air, then slammed them down on the table. “Guess what the newspapers forgot to report?” She opened the top folder.
“Molly, what are you talking about?” Beth’s face had to be flushed—she still felt the heat of what had happened between her and Drew, whose eyes she now completely avoided.
“Jess Pendergast.”
Beth dared a glance at Drew. His face had gone blank. Was he regretting that kiss? Or, like her, wanting to get rid of Molly and Bishop so they could do it again?
Molly stared at her, awaiting her response.
Anything to get rid of them. And fast. “Okay, Molly, what did you find?” Beth stared at the case file. “What am I looking at?”
Molly pointed to a sentence on the page. “Juvenile male witness. No memory of attacker. Taken to hospital; treated with stitches and released.” She tapped on the table forcefully, as if she’d just proven herself right about something tremendous—like life on another planet or something. “There was a witness no one ever knew about because he was too young—another kid.”
Beth frowned. “Do you think it was someone local?” They hadn’t heard anything about a witness, and while her parents had shielded them from much of the tragedy, surely someone would’ve mentioned if a little boy had seen Jess taken.
“Doubtful,” Bishop said. “It’s unlikely it wouldn’t have come out by now. You know how people in this town like to talk.”
Beth pressed her lips together. “So, is the boy’s name in here?”
“No, and his records are sealed, but Bishop thinks we can get it.”
“How?” Beth asked.
“My dad was friends with one of the detectives who worked the case. He retired to Florida, but I think I can track him down.”
“Is this even legal?” Drew’s tone had an uncharacteristic edge to it.
“If Bishop handles it, it will be.” Molly paused. Squinted at Beth. “Wait a minute. What are you guys doing out here? I thought you were working, but this doesn’t look like work.”
Beth glanced at Drew, then at the floor.
“Is this a date?” Molly folded her arms over her chest and cocked her head, waiting for a satisfying reply.
Beth couldn’t find a single coherent sentence running through her mind.
“Oh, my gosh,” Molly said. “You two?” She turned to Bishop. “I told you she liked him.” Back to Beth. “I told him. He said you were too focused to think about romance and to stop trying to play matchmaker, but I told him.” Over to Drew. “She does have very good taste.”
He managed a soft laugh, but Beth could feel the heat as embarrassment radiated through her body. She picked up the folders and pushed them back into Molly’s arms, shoving both her and Bishop toward the door.
“I get it,” Molly said. “You guys want to be alone. Geesh! All you had to do was say so.”
“Since when do you listen to anything I say, Molly?”
Before leaving, Bishop turned to Drew. “Sorry, man.”
Drew raised a hand as if to tell him it was okay, but Beth slammed the door shut before Bishop had a chance to see. She faced the door, willing them off the porch, into the car and miles away from the farm. “I’m so sorry,” she said, still not looking at Drew.
“What are you sorry for?”
She turned around. “You like to keep your personal business personal. I didn’t think you’d want anyone to think . . .” The words got all jumbled up before she could even finish the thought.
“I don’t care what people think, Beth.” He walked toward her, meeting her in the entryway.
When she met his eyes, she knew he meant it.
“I like you,” he said. “I’m not embarrassed by that.”
She looked away but couldn’t hide her smile. He pulled her to him and held her for a long moment, then kissed her again. “I’ve got some work to do outside.”
Her heart sank. Disappointed to leave him and, more importantly, disappointed that he didn’t want to tell her whatever he’d planned to say before Molly had barged in.
She wouldn’t push him. “See you tomorrow?”
“You know where to find me.”
As she drove home, mind spinning, lips tingling from his kisses, Beth replayed the entire day in her head. Her cheeks flushed with something she could only describe as passion—she was anxious to see him again.
She’d done her best to strengthen her resolve around Drew Barlow, but her resolve had failed her in every possible way.
That night, she fell asleep well after midnight, praying she could relive their first kiss over and over in her dreams.