Chapter 5 #3
Annoyed with myself, I rolled over and closed my eyes, forcing away thoughts that didn’t fucking matter.
Ian and George were strangers—temporary blips in my life.
There was no mystery here or a place for me in whatever drama was unfolding.
It was time for me to get back to my comfortable, small-town existence.
I was still in a shitty mood the following morning.
Before heading out for my run, I’d dropped off some carrots for the goat, who’d munched happily despite the cold.
Not that I’d expected him, but Ian hadn’t shown up at any point during my six-mile route.
He was busy with work, which was fine. Nothing wrong with dedicating yourself to your job.
I could understand that. I’d known since I was a teenager that I’d be the one taking over the fields once my parents retired from the orchard.
It was what I wanted. Some people were just born with different expectations.
I understood better than most about having responsibilities and obligations.
Obligations.
The word triggered my memory of George calling himself an inconvenience. I wondered again who Gloria was and why she’d ever been allowed within ten feet of the boy.
Maybe that was part of my disappointment around not seeing Ian this morning.
Maybe I was curious about George and his well-being, and Ian was the one person who could provide the answers to my questions.
I wanted to know why George wasn’t in school and why he was allowed to wander around alone to fend for himself.
My gaze strayed briefly to the Apple Lady bracelet on my wrist, barely visible beneath the sleeve of my shirt.
I was curious who the kid was to Ian and why their exchange had been so strange. I thought I’d been content to let all this go, but nearly twenty-four hours after they’d taken off in that side-by-side, here I was, chewing on the inside of my cheek and glaring at the tree I was pruning.
Mercer was working beside me, but he was giving me some space. Not that Mark Mercer was one for small talk—thank Christ—but I could tell he was being quiet for my benefit. Maybe my thoughts were so loud, he was hesitant to get involved.
We both heard the sound of a low engine and turned. It was the same blue recreational vehicle, but the driver was a man I’d never seen before.
He stopped on the muddy tractor path and unfolded his large form.
The guy had to be six five and built like a defensive end.
He wore a wool hat and a heavy winter coat, as if he wasn’t used to the weather in the mountains in mid-November.
His skin was a warm dark brown, and he looked to be in his early thirties.
Unsmiling, he approached with a big manila envelope in his hands. “Joan Judd?”
I took off my work gloves and held out a hand. “That’s me.”
The man paused briefly as if surprised, but slid his large hand into mine and gave it a firm squeeze. “I’m Darren. I work for Mr. Masters. This is for you.”
I could feel Mercer at my side, a question in his gaze, but he remained silent.
Frowning, I accepted the folder, sliding out a thin stack of papers. I shuffled through the pile, registering words like scope and parties, and confidential, terms, and exclusions.
“Why would this be for me?” I asked slowly.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss private matters,” Darren replied. “If you could just please sign. You’ll be mailed a copy for your records.”
I forced myself to focus and turned back to the first page. A nondisclosure agreement. This was an NDA from Dorian Masters.
“What is it that he doesn’t want me to run my mouth about?” I asked Darren, some venom in my words.
The big man looked pained. His dark eyes glanced briefly to Mercer at my side. “I’m sorry, I’m not at liberty—”
“To discuss private matters,” I finished for him. “Yeah, alright.”
“I’m not supposed to leave until you sign it.”
My thoughts raced, and for some reason, I could feel my heart pounding out an angry beat in my bloodstream. I’d been right yesterday. Ian hadn’t trusted me. And the result was clenched in my fist, big words and phrases crinkled around my fingers.
Ian had been the one to insert himself into my life, my home, my routine.
He’d misrepresented himself and withheld all sorts of information, apparently.
But now I was the one who couldn’t be trusted, while having my morals and honor questioned?
By some stranger from Hollywood, on my own damn farm?
When I hadn’t done anything but give this man the benefit of the doubt—multiple times.
I glanced up at Darren, who looked ridiculously uncomfortable.
And then I started to read. I read the paperwork front to back. It took ten minutes of mind-numbing legalese and a headache at the base of my skull. After understanding less than a third of what I’d just consumed, I decided I’d gotten the gist and accepted a pen from Darren.
He took the packet with a quiet nod before climbing back in the side-by-side and returning the way he’d come.
“What was that all about?” Mercer asked as we both stood staring after Darren.
“I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”