Dawn Temple - To Have And To Hold

Down on her knees, she rummaged through the boots and dirty sneakers on her closet floor, digging up a comfy pair of sandals. Before she lost her nerve, she slipped them on and dashed downstairs, ducking into the kitchen to grab her keys just as Alice Robertson let herself in the back door.

Her neighbor let out a wolf whistle that would’ve made any construction worker proud. “Lord Almighty. You look like a girl.”

“I sure hope so.” Despite the heaviness in her heart, Lindy put her hands on her hips and struck a runway pose. “Girls are the best bait for a manhunt.”

Alice raised one red brow. “Gracious, child, no need to set out the bait. You could have any man in Holcombe County with just the wiggle of one finger.”

Yeah, right.

“I think I’ll stick to my plan.” She bussed her lips across Alice’s cheek. “Wish me luck.”

“Whatever you’re up to, that dress oughta be all the luck you need.”

Lindy grabbed a sweater off the hall rack and raced outside to Pops’s old truck, anxious to get this charade behind her. Her stomach felt like one huge ball of nerves. At three o’clock this morning, she’d been sure her idea was foolproof. Under the bright lights of morning, though, doubts crept in. Pressing her foot against the accelerator, Lindy increased her white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and did her best to block out her second thoughts.

At precisely nine o’clock, she parked her old truck in the front row of the People’s Bank Building. More than ready to escape the close confines of the cab, she snatched her purse off the bench seat and quickly hopped down.

Pretending to rummage through her purse, she stood at the curb for a minute, gulping in fresh air and willing her heart rate to settle. She hated this whole weak-kneed, churning-stomach feeling she got every time she forced herself to drive.

With a final loud exhale, she walked through the double glass doors and entered the bank’s lobby. Pinning a confident smile in place, she approached the woman who’d been the bank’s receptionist for over twenty years.

“Good morning, Mrs. Carstairs.”

“Good morning, Lindy dear. I sure was sorry to hear about Lionel.”

Lindy’s face curved into the same grateful expression she used every time she heard that sentiment. Pops had been such a popular man, she knew she’d still be accepting condolences a year from now.

“Thank you. How’s Lucy doing?”

“She’s carrying low. Sure sign the baby’s a boy.”

Lindy felt a twinge of envy, but pushed it aside. “That’s fantastic.” She rested one hand on the faux-marble reception desk and flattened the other over her twittering stomach. This was it. No more stalling. Time to do what had to be done.

“Is Mr. Harper in this morning?” No turning back now.

The receptionist’s penciled-on eyebrows rose. “Why certainly, dear. Have a seat and I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Resisting the urge to make a break for it and forget the whole thing, she settled into an overstuffed chair. In less than two minutes, Mark Harper appeared from behind a wall of smoky glass. His ever-present pocket protector overflowed with pens and his thick glasses hung precariously on the tip of his nose. He was still too thin for his height and he needed a haircut. And he represented her only chance at escaping this predicament.

Hating herself for what she was about to do, Lindy imposed a fake wobble in her voice and extended her hand to one of the nicest guys she’d ever known. “Mark, thanks for seeing me.”

“N-no problem, Lindy. Come on in.” He placed his hand on her back and ushered her into his office. His perspiration dampened the material at her waist.

Yep. She was about to do a really despicable thing. But Pops had her cornered.

Fifteen minutes later, Lindy stormed out of the bank building, so angry she didn’t know whether to spit or cry. Unfortunately she could do neither in the middle of the town square.

Focused solely on getting the hell out of Dodge before she lost control of her temper and no longer cared about making a public spectacle of herself, Lindy blindly marched to her truck.

A creative string of curses dripped off her tongue as she dug into her purse for her keys. A familiar whiff of cedar drifting on a sea breeze distracted her. She raised her head, pointed her nose into the wind, and walked straight into the source of the smell.

Travis’s hands gripped her elbows to steady her. “Whoa. Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m all right. Why do people keep asking me that?” Lindy threw back her head and tried to look him in the eye. The sun haloed his head, blocking his face. “Are you following me?”

He laughed, a dry, humorless sound. “No, Lindy. I’m not following you. I just finished breakfast at Daisy’s Diner. But I was on my way to see you. I checked out of the Sheltering Arms this morning. If we’re going to honor the will, we need to make some plans.”

Well, she’d already made her plans, and they’d blown up in her face. Dolled up like some backwoods femme fatale, she’d embarrassed both herself and softhearted Mark Harper.

She’d been so sure she could bamboozle him into loaning her enough money to buy the old Roosevelt farm. At just under four hundred acres, it offered less property than her family’s farm, but was more than enough land for Country Daze.

But thanks to Pops’s wild stipulations, she wouldn’t have any collateral until she fulfilled the terms of the will and inherited her own farm free and clear.

She harrumphed at the fabulous-smelling man in front of her. “I’m sick to death of plans. Plans never work out.” She tried to sidestep him, but he refused to release his hold on her elbows. “Let go of me, Travis. I have to get out of here. Right now.”

She glared at him through eyes she knew were wet with unshed tears, uncertain how much longer her control would hold.

He leaned forward, bringing his mouthwatering scent with him. Without the sun directly behind his head, his expression became clear. The understanding in his green-gold eyes further threatened her self-control.

“Then let’s get out of here.” Stepping back, he waved his arm toward her old truck. “Lead the way. I’ll follow you.”

Tears and emotions back under control, Lindy drove under the Lewis Family Farm archway, one eye glued to the BMW tailing her. Now what?

Her brilliant plan to outsmart Pops had failed. That left her with only two options. Walk away from her home and her dreams or bury her pride and ask for Travis’s help.

“Talk about your rock and a hard place.” She turned off her old truck and sat for a moment, fiddling with the keys, delaying the inevitable. For the first time in over a year, she didn’t feel the overwhelming urge to escape the vehicle.

Stunned to realize worrying about Travis had blocked out her normal nervousness during the entire drive home, she climbed slowly from the cab. As her feet hit solid ground, a breeze caught her hem, whipping the dress around her knees.

Travis rolled to a stop. Pretending to ignore him while she smoothed her skirt back into place, she watched from under her lashes as he stepped from the car, first one expensive Italian leather shoe, then the next. Straightening, he shut the door and engaged his car alarm.

A sardonic grin twisted her lips. Was he afraid the chickens might try to make off with his fancy car?

He’s so out of place here. The hard truth sobered her, flattening her grin into a frown.

All those months she’d spent dreaming of Travis coming for her, putting their marriage before his family’s selfish demands, she’d never once considered what would happen after his arrival. Seeing him here, standing in the barnyard wearing a coat and tie, she realized this man would never fit into her life.

Raising her head, she caught him openly studying her. His eyebrows rose, waiting for her to make the next move. She strode onto the porch. His footsteps followed. She opened the front door, but paused on the threshold, once again meeting his gaze over her shoulder.

“You don’t fit in here.” A simple statement of fact, but saying it aloud brought an unexpected lump to her throat.

“I’m willing to try,” Travis said, following her inside.

“I’m not sure I am.” She slammed the heavy front door, automatically toeing out of her shoes, even though the sandals she’d worn to town were free from barnyard yuck.

Travis gripped her arm, spun her around. Even in the unlit entryway, she could see the angry pulse jumping at his temple. His eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth.

What he would’ve said, she’d never know.

“Lindy!” Shayna Miller, her assistant, neighbor and childhood friend, called out from the kitchen. “I thought you’d never get home!”

Fast footfalls echoed down the hallway. Travis growled low in his throat and dropped her arm, but didn’t move. Lindy did, stepping outside his aura of controlled energy, reestablishing her personal space.

“They’re here!” The petite brunette rounded the corner at full speed and skidded to a stop, barely missing a direct collision with Travis. “Wow, he is gorgeous.” Her soft brown eyes rolled in embarrassment. “Oh, gosh. I’m sorry.”

Lindy snuck a peek at her handsome husband. “Yeah, me, too.”

Travis extended his hand, gracefully ignoring Shayna’s faux pas. “Good morning. I’m Travis.”

Poor Shayna. At twenty-four, only two years younger than Lindy, she was totally unprepared for Travis’s well-honed charm. Or his sexy smile.

“Shayna Miller,” she gushed. Her blush deepened as she tentatively grasped his large hand.

“Nice to meet you, Shayna. Sounds like you’ve got big news.”

Amazing. She’d forgotten how easily he could avert social disaster with a smile and a handshake. She’d seen him do it hundreds of times on the cocktail-party circuit.

“Oh, yeah.” Embarrassment forgotten, Shayna turned to Lindy. “They finally came. The delivery van brought ’em this morning. Rufus barked like crazy.”

“Shayna?” Lindy asked when her friend paused for a breath.

“Yes?”

“What came?”

Shayna giggled. “Sorry. I’m just so exci—”

“Shayna!”

“The picnic tables and benches. Ooh, they’re so tiny and cute. It all looks pretty ratty now, but once we repaint them they’ll be so precious.”

Lindy plopped into one of the wing chairs just inside the family room. The picnic tables. Ten of them. And twenty benches. The prepaid, nonrefundable picnic tables and benches she’d bought at an online auction.

Ten picnic tables weren’t enough to accommodate her long-range plans for Country Daze, but her budget insisted she make do her first couple of years. This purchase had stretched her already burdened credit card to its limit.

Her mind spun with details. After so many years of hoping and planning, her dream was within her grasp. If she lost the farm, she’d lose everything.

“Lindy, what’s wrong?” Shayna stooped in front of her, worry lines etched between her eyes. “You’ve lost all your color. Are you sick?”

“No, I’m not sick. I’m stuck.” She rubbed her palm over her forehead, scraping her hair back. Tilting her head, resting her chin in her palm, she stared at Travis. He stood there, staring back, looking strong and reliable. But could she trust him?

I don’t have a choice.

“Shayna, why don’t you go on home for today? Travis and I have some things to settle.” She gave her friend a weak smile.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure.” The conviction in her voice pleased Lindy. At least she sounded like a woman in control.