33. Summer
Summer
Dinner at a steakhouse after Keeneland is Jaxon’s idea, and he books a table for our entire staff, including the farmhands. When the check comes, he slides his card in before anyone can argue.
“Jaxon,” I whisper.
He puts his hand on mine. “We made a bet, remember? You said if we cleared our number, I was paying.” He picks up a pen. “And we did.”
I stare at him. “I didn’t mean buying dinner for everyone.”
“I know. But I want to do this.” He signs the receipt, then slides it across the table to me. At the bottom, in his handwriting, I read:
YOU WON.
What I don’t tell him is that the moment he chose me is when I really won. I fold the receipt and tell myself I’m not going to cry tonight over this.
I barely succeed.
On the drive back while I’m half asleep against the window, Jaxon’s phone rings. I barely register him saying, “Hey, James,” then something about stopping by the farm tonight. I’m out again before he finishes the sentence.
When we return to Lucky Chance, all I want is to sleep for a few days, but there’s no time with the open house bearing down on us and a chance of frost in the forecast. We’re three days away from the event, and I can’t lose my best flowers now.
I still have a food order to finalize and approximately four dozen emails to answer that I’ve been ignoring since I left.
Larissa shows up at the barn to help me with centerpieces the next morning, which is a true act of friendship, considering she sang at the Blue Moon Saloon until one a.m. last night.
I’m in the middle of giving Larissa instructions for tying the lavender bundles when Jaxon walks in with a cinnamon roll and a quick peck on the cheek before he leaves to check the horses.
My body warms at his touch. I am ridiculously in love with this man and completely unashamed of it.
“He’s so in love with you,” Larissa whispers as she watches him leave. “It’s honestly disgusting.”
I tap the table. “The lavender.”
“I’m doing it.” She holds up a bundle to show me. “I’m just saying, the roll and the kiss. Not to mention him giving you this barn. And have you seen the man?” She fans herself as she presses the flowers to her heart. “You have the whole package.”
“His brothers haven’t officially approved the barn thing yet,” I remind her. “They’re waiting to see how things go at the open house first.”
“They will,” she says confidently.
“Please focus on the flowers.”
The barn door opens and Wyatt Chance walks in wearing a Lucky Chance cap, jeans, and an NFL T-shirt. His gaze lands on Larissa and he stops cold.
She grabs my hand under the table. “What is he doing here?” she whispers.
My bubbly, never-met-a-stranger best friend turns into a different person entirely whenever Wyatt Chance walks into a room. Her face turns the color of scarlet dahlias, and she looks like she might hyperventilate.
“Are you Summer’s friend Larissa?” he asks. “The songwriter?”
Larissa knocks an entire bundle of lavender off the workbench. “Uh, yes…”
“I left you a message,” he says. “About the open house?”
I give Larissa a look. You didn’t call him back?
“I thought it was a scam,” she says with a panicked glance at me. “There was no way Wyatt Chance personally called to request a gig. I assumed someone was pranking me by impersonating him.”
Wyatt looks between us. “Uh, no. It was really me. Unless you think I’m an impersonator now?”
“Of course not. You’re…here. And so—” Her gaze trails up his body. “Massive. What do you eat for breakfast?”
“A lot of protein, darlin’.” He leans on the worktable and smiles at her. Larissa grabs my arm tighter.
“So, you want the gig?” he asks.
“Yes,” she says. “Obviously.”
“Good,” he adds with a pleased grin. “Looking forward to it. Especially now that you know I’m not a scammer.”
Larissa stares at him like she’s lost the ability to speak.
I have the feeling I should leave, but I wouldn’t miss this for anything.
The girl who’s been ready for a meet-cute since she moved here is living one right now.
It’s freaking adorable. Even if she’s going to kill me later for not telling her that Wyatt was going to call.
“Hey, Larissa,” I say, bumping her with my elbow so she’ll snap out of her daze. “Could you grab some more hay bales from out back? I’m setting up a picture station for the event and I need props.”
Larissa doesn’t look fooled for a second. Watching Wyatt lift hay bales? You’re welcome.
They disappear out the back door, while I set up vases along the workbench, relieved that everything is falling into place.
The barn door squeaks, and James enters, a leather portfolio under his arm. “Summer, I wondered if I’d find you in here.” He studies the barn. “This place looks incredible.”
“It’s a work in progress.” I motion toward him. “What’s the occasion? You rarely make personal visits.”
“I called Jaxon last night, asked if I could stop in. I found something when I was reviewing the trust.”
“Is there a problem?” I ask.
“Not a problem, just a clarification.” He opens the portfolio and takes out a folder.
“When Miriam’s Lexington attorney wrote in the manager-in-residence requirement, the wording they used was loose.
It says one beneficiary must actively oversee Lucky Chance Ranch and maintain primary residence on the property.
Sounds clear initially, but neither of those terms was ever defined.
” He thumbs through a few pages. “What specifically constitutes active oversight, and precisely how much time counts as primary residence? A court would have a field day with this kind of vague language.”
“So what does it mean for Jaxon?”
“In my opinion, it’s ambiguous enough that a court would likely interpret it broadly in Jaxon’s favor.
He can delegate the day-to-day to a farm manager, keep this as his primary residence for purposes of the trust, and take a job anywhere he wants.
He still owes his six months here like his brothers, but the trust doesn’t require him to sleep on the property.
As long as he’s responsible for the overall management of Lucky Chance, he’s met the terms.” He tucks the document and folder back into his portfolio.
“So he’s allowed to leave,” I say, trying to understand what this means.
“If he chooses to. Nothing in the trust prevents him from doing that.”
Oh. My eyes slide to the door. “And you already told him this?”
“He asked me a while back to review the file. That’s why I stopped by his office late last night,” he says. “He didn’t really ask any questions. Just thanked me. I forgot to leave his copy. That’s why I stopped in today.” He studies me for a second. “I assumed he’d have told you.”
“Right,” I say with a weak nod.
I watch him leave as he shuts the door behind him. Then I lean my palms flat on the table and think about everything James just said.
Jaxon asked his lawyer to do this before we were together. He sat in James’s office and asked how to get out of this. Which means nothing is keeping Jaxon here. Not the trust, not the farm, not even the loan. Just me. And I haven’t always been enough for people to stay before.
I look down at the lavender bundle on the table. Jaxon told me I was the one who made the answer clear when he turned down the coaching job. But this farm could lose its appeal over time. When the newness wears off, will he still feel the same?
I pick up a mason jar because I don’t know what else to do with myself besides work when my mind is spiraling. It’s the thing I learned early in life: keep your hands moving, and don’t stop long enough to feel anything. Don’t stop to wonder if you’ll be enough this time.
Larissa pokes her head through the back door. “Hey, where do you want those hay bales to go? Wyatt’s getting them and—” She stops and her brow creases. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“You look like someone just died.”
I straighten the lavender bundles, gaze fixed downward, perfecting each stem. “The Chances’ attorney stopped in. Jaxon asked him to look for a loophole, and he found one. Jaxon doesn’t have to live here to get Lucky Chance.”
“That’s good, right?” she asks. “It takes the pressure off.”
“Larissa, it means he can leave anytime.”
Her brow pinches. “But why would he leave? He’s in love with you.”
“My dad loved my mom. And I haven’t seen him in years.”
“Jaxon’s not the same as your dad,” she says. “You know that, right?”
“In my head, yes.” I lay down the lavender bundle.
“But the farm is still new to him. And now there’s nothing holding him here except me.
” I can hear how it sounds, but I have to ask the question.
I want to know if he’ll disappoint me like my father, or if I’m just fooling myself into believing in a fantasy.
Larissa folds her arms and looks at me. “Can I say something you’re not going to like?”
I huff out a dry laugh. “Historically, that’s never stopped you before.”
“I say this as a friend who cares about you,” she says, leveling her gaze.
“But I think you’ve had your bags packed since he got back.
And now you’re running every worst-case scenario before anything’s actually happened.
That should make you ask yourself some serious questions.
Like whether this is really about Jaxon… or your dad?”
I slide one finger carefully over the dried stem, the scent of lavender everywhere. “I don’t know.”
“Then figure that part out first. Before you do anything else.”
There’s only one person who can help me figure this out. One person who may remember nothing or everything about my father.
“Hey,” I say, grabbing my keys and coming around the worktable. “Do you mind holding things down for an hour?”
“Sure.” She tilts her head. “Where are you going?”
“To talk to someone who’s been in my shoes.”
I just wish she could remember me when I do.