CHAPTER 8
Tally
The ground crackles beneath my feet as I walk across the meadow in search of Walker.
We avoided one another yesterday after our run-in during breakfast, but I can’t avoid him forever.
After a decent night’s sleep and a warm shower, thanks to Walker’s absence when I returned from my run this morning, I feel renewed.
I even liberally applied the white cypress moisturizer I’ve been saving since I splurged on it in Nantucket last year.
The sweet smell has me feeling brighter; determined and refreshed.
This is my town. My farm. My house. And I’ve got a job to do.
I will figure out what’s going on, but the only way I can do that is to talk to Walker since my mother won’t answer any of my questions.
Now I just have to find the guy. Though the white farmhouse has always been a focal part of the sprawling ten acres of land, there’s a lot of ground to cover as I search for Walker.
I start in the barn near where the weddings are normally held.
It’s also where we host the Daffodil Festival, and since that’s just a few weeks away, there’s a decent possibility Walker is over there.
At the entrance to the farm, there’s a long dirt road that cuts two ways. If you go right, you end up at the main house. Take a left, and the path winds through the farm, toward the barn and the meadows where people pick tulips after the last of our weddings.
Basically, anything my father could think of to create another source of income, he leveraged.
This time of year was critical to get us through the summer season, when our farm was already picked over, until we reached fall, when we had revenue from the pumpkin patch and maze.
Though if memory serves, the pumpkin patch had gotten smaller since my sister and I graduated from high school.
Maintaining the farm is a hell of a lot of work.
And since my father did most of it on his own, or with seasonal help from high school kids, things had fallen to the wayside as he’d gotten older.
Another burst of guilt hits me as I pass the old cottages next to the wildflower fields.
My father had a dream to fix all these up.
As children, Penny and I used to sneak into them and pretend they were our own houses.
When I got older, I snuck boys in there, and I’m pretty sure Penny used them to hide away with her books.
I take a few tentative steps onto the wooden porch of the first one and wince as I hear the wood strain under my weight.
“What the hell’re you doing?”
Walker’s bark takes me by surprise and I nearly stumble sideways but catch myself on the door to the cottage. Grasping my chest, I turn around and glare at the man I’d been looking for. “What the hell am I doing? What about you? Do you routinely go around scaring the hell out of people?”
Walkerwears a baseball cap so it’s hard to see his eyes, but it’s clear he’s glaring at me.
And by the way his chest is rising and falling, it’s clear he isn’t thrilled to see me.
. His chin is covered in far more scruff than when I first got here, making him appear meaner, maybe even dangerous.
And his jeans are dirty, like he’s been rolling around in the fields, although his shirt is still clean.
The deep green henley compliments his olive complexion, and a shiver runs through my body at the sight of him.
Perhaps I hit my head when I tripped, because I’m blinking like an idiot, fawning over a man I don’t even I like.
“The cottages aren’t safe. Why the hell are you snooping around over here, anyway?”
Oh, this ass. “Snooping? First of all, I was looking for you. Second, I can snoop wherever the hell I want because this is my property.”
He grunts and kicks his Timberland-booted foot into the dirt.
“Well, you found me. What do you want?”
I straighten my back because I will not be railroaded by his attitude. “I’m here to help, and it’s clear there’s a lot of work to be done, so”—I hold up my hands, affecting the most sarcastic offering—“what can I do?”
Walker’s head bows down, and he grips his waist, like he’s trying to summon some patience. I guess the disdain is mutual. “What you can do is go back to the house and spend time with your mom. Or go into town and hang out with your sister. I’ve got the farm covered.”
“There’s ten acres, Walker. The festival is in mere weeks, and the farm is a complete mess.” I swipe my hand against the glass windowpane on the door, creating a circle in the dirt. I hold out my palm, showing him the years-old grime.
Walker shakes his head but turns and starts walking away.
“I was trying to be nice,” he calls over his shoulder.
“But if you want to clean all the windows on the cottages, be my guest. Feel free to tackle the chairs in the barn when you’re done.
They’ll need to be spruced up for the weddings!
” He’s hollering now because he has put a good distance between us.
I chase after him. “What about the flowers, Walker? The two hundred and fifty thousand tulip bulbs. The hundred thousand daffodils. Who’s taking care of those?”
Finally, the man spins around and stalks back toward me.
With each step he eats up three times what mine could cover, which means he’s standing right in front of me in barely a breath’s time.
He grabs his hat and flips it backward so I’m victim to those eyes again.
They’re as angry as a thunder-cloud, yet I can’t look away.
The thrill of the potential electric bolt that charges through the air whenever he holds my gaze has me stuck stupidly in place.
“Do not touch the flowers, Tally.” His voice is a low growl, a warning. I don’t like the way it heats my cheeks.
Annoyed, I step forward so we’re practically chest to chest. We both breathe heavily, and I grit my teeth.
“Why won’t you let me help?”
His nostrils flare as he shakes his head. “Why can’t you just do what I ask?”
I poke his chest, ignoring the way my finger barely budges as it’s met by a wall of hard muscle. “Why are you so bossy?”
He stares down at my finger like he wants to remove it but refuses to touch me. Without looking up, he growls out, “Because I’m the boss.”
I push off him with a loud sigh and stomp away. Fine, I’ll do his stupid chores. I’ll do them so well he will be amazed. And then maybe he’ll lower his defenses and slip up to reveal what exactly is happening here.
—
Hours later, I’m convinced today was a bust. Walker disappeared sometime around lunch, and I haven’t seen him since. I’m tired, my arms hurt from rubbing the windows so hard they sparkle, and I’m starving.
I go to text Penny and Rosie to ask what they’re doing tonight when I see the town group chat blowing up.
HOPE HARBOR TOWN CHAT
BABS: What time is skinny dipping?
RAYNA: I’m not coming.
BABS: I didn’t ask if you were going. I asked what time it was.
STEW: Mayor Fletcher! I don’t think this should be in the town chat.
RAYNA: Well, it is an event that takes place in town so I would disagree.
BABS: Oh, go fly a kite Stew. The mayor doesn’t monitor this chat. We can talk about what we want.
I’m glad I forced Penny to go through my phone to update the contacts of everyone in the town group chat, because now at least I know who’s making these absurd comments, but I still have no idea what they’re talking about. I open up a text thread with the girls to find out.
ME: What the heck are they talking about?
PENNY: don’t ask.
ROSIE: Some of the elders in town like to get freaky when they play pool so they call it skinny dipping.
ME: Oh god, why did I ask?
PENNY: told you.
PENNY: How was today? Did you learn anything?
ROSIE: Oh, what’s she learning? What’s happening? Can I bug someone’s phone?
ME: excuse me, what?
PENNY: Rosie’s just being dramatic.
ME: Oh, well nothing happened really. My arms hurt. Walker is nowhere to be found, but the cottage windows are cleaner than ever.
PENNY: I don’t think that’s going to lead to answers about what’s going on with Mom or the farm.
ROSIE: Your mother is currently sitting at my bar having dinner with the Liberty Ladies. Then they’re probably going to play pool at Wicked Wine and Cheese.
ME: What?
PENNY: I told you she’s been weird.
ME: Yeah, for real. Okay, well, I need food.
PENNY: Want me to pick something up when I close the shop? Or you could come here?
ME: I’m too tired to move. I’m just sitting on the porch of one of the cottages out in the fields. Do you think there’s some peanut butter leftover from when we were kids?
PENNY: Maybe a snickers bar.
ROSIE: ew. Just come here. I’ll feed you.
ME: can’t move.
ROSIE: I forgot how dramatic you are.
ME: It’s fine, I’ll scrounge something up from the kitchen. I want to get a shower in before Walker returns so I can get to bed early. Maybe if I wake up before he does tomorrow I can get some real snooping done.
ROSIE: Oh yes, check the fireplace.
ME: the fireplace?
PENNY: Pretty sure that thing hasn’t worked in at least a decade.
ROSIE: Exactly. It’s a great hiding spot.
I stare at that last sentence and wonder how I got here. How is my dad gone, my mom acting diabolically different, and a man we don’t know controlling our family business?
PENNY: they don’t really get naked while they play pool. They just think it sounds more scandalous. Mom’s acting weird but not that weird.
I slowly blink at the phone and then decide I’m not going to touch that. I don’t want to think about my mom and the word naked in the same sentence. It’s bad enough that I’ve already had visions of her with Walker.
ME: I’ll talk to you guys tomorrow.
I shove my phone in my pocket and push up to stand, letting out the loudest of sighs, and then head down the path leading back to the house.
The sun is setting over the meadow, and I’m reminded just how vast this land is.
At the bottom of the wildflower-covered hills, the bay sparkles as though it’s covered in a pink sequined blanket.
Across the harbor, down-town Hope Harbor sits proudly.
Of all the places I’ve traveled, none has held a candle to Hope Harbor. As much as I fought coming back, and as much of a pain in the ass as Jesse Walker is, it sure is nice to be home.