Chapter Twenty
RACHEL’S MONDAY MORNING surprises continued.
Apparently, Noah had arranged for a working party to help them ready the farm for the ceremony, build the arch, and collect clothes and toiletries for the families affected by the fire.
This, plus the fact that he supported her redevelopment ideas over Pete’s plan.
Noah Calvary had awesome-coded DNA, and he wanted to be hers.
Cue the heart emojis. Then her boss called.
Rachel shared the news of the fire with Gillian, and that the committee chair, aka Noah, had agreed that the next set of schematics should incorporate affordable housing.
Gillian had disconnected the video chat with a visible sliver of perfectly capped white teeth, which passed for a smile.
After Gillian’s call, in which Rachel assured her mentor that covering freckles wasn’t corporate espionage, and the firm volun-told her to take on this project, the woman refocused on the redevelopment plans.
Instead of going home, Rachel had padded back to the cabin, showered, paired Noah’s sweatpants with his T-shirt, and gotten to work in her sketch book with the old textile mill reimagined.
The drive home from Noah’s was quick, but the yard was crawling with volunteers.
She brushed a frizzy red ringlet from her face, squinting against the bright summer sunlight.
The lemon scent of blooming elderberry and freshly turned soil filled the air around her father’s rambling farmhouse.
Working and planting, a farm was ever in motion.
In Service, everyone worked to nurture the land.
Some raised honeybees, cows, chickens, and goats, but no one’s land outshone the natural beauty of the Johnson farm, with its white picket fencing and field irrigation layout.
Rachel’s arch design would ensure that her father’s love for these mountains and skill in maintaining their farm was reflected in the finished product.
It was a living, breathing, artistic ecosystem that preserved the soil and sustained its inhabitants.
ClamClam, having hitched a ride from the cabin, jetted out in the direction of the barn.
“MRAAAAAAAAAAAAOWWWWWW!”
Rachel gave her colorful kitty a two-fingered salute as she took off on a new adventure, probably involving scaring the bejeezus out of senior citizens for sport. “Okay, enjoy the open fields while you can, girl.”
It felt good to have the house full and the farm abuzz with people.
Rachel surveyed the open yard they had chosen for the wedding ceremony.
Everyone had shown up to contribute to the happy couple’s success.
Rachel shared in the palpable joy. “Give me a minute to grab a change of clothes and my gloves.”
Noah circled the truck, giving her a quick kiss. “I’ll get started.”
She raised a brow, studying his features. She was amazed at how effortlessly Noah had transitioned from him and her to them. While she, like ClamClam, still ran in mental circles, trying to figure out how they could work. “Why the rush?”
“The sooner we start, the sooner we can resume where we left off?”
The hens searched the grass for worms and grubs while Ricky patrolled in a diagonal line, daring any fool or fowl to approach.
Rachel shook her head at the rooster’s antics.
She hoped Noah had Ricky’s coordinates and steered clear.
Then she wouldn’t have to question returning to his arms. “You’re a terrible flirt, Noah Calvary. ”
“Not true. I’m a great flirt. The best.” He winked.
“Those eyes are going to get you in trouble,” she called, opening the screened door.
“I only have eyes for you, Six.”
With a grin, Noah tore his shirt off and pulled his gloves on.
He moved with purpose, lifting long pieces of treated lumber from the truck bed.
Watching him move, effortless in his masculine grace, she saw the boy she once loved—kind, committed, eager to help—albeit for a people-pleasing that-a-boy.
Never one to shy away from a hard day of work, even after fighting a fire for a good part of Saturday, he was here, on time, for her family.
Could she fault him for wanting to see others win, be happy, and get rewarded in the process?
Gosh, he looked Easter candy delicious, shiny, and sculpted. And as she lived and breathed, Rachel wanted to unwrap every stitch of denim and leather covering his tanned muscles, and lick, and nibble—
“Rachel, how’s the project coming along?” one of the older ladies said, extending pillowy arms for a hug.
Rachel startled. Being caught with her thoughts on tangled sheets, not oblique angles, had her body primed to react. Darn, Noah and dem jeans. She reached for the porch’s support beam to steady her runaway pulse.
“I scared you.” The would-be greeter, who looked vaguely familiar, gave a sharp inhale. “You about jumped out of your boots. You okay?” the woman asked, genuine concern in her tone.
“Whew, yes,” Rachel screeched, her volume momentarily drawing attention from the assembling work crew.
Rachel bent, embracing the woman who’d been a friend of her mother’s.
Mrs. Tiajuana Dawn. “I have lots of ideas… especially since the fire. I’d love to talk them out with you and some of the other ladies…
while you’re here,” she added for good measure, forcing herself not to look at Noah, hoisting the solid beams on broad shoulders as rivulets of sweat trickled down sinewy muscles.
“Indeed. Your mother would be so proud to see you, her fearless little Rachel, back in Service.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“She loved this town, and it loved her back.” She smiled and touched Rachel’s cheek.
“You’re so much like her when she was a girl—before the cancer.
Always looking for an opportunity to help somebody; daring, adventurous, giving…
answering the call of love when she met Matthew,” Mrs. Tiajuana said.
“And you’ve been blessed with a divine Calvary specimen to stand by your side, too. ” She winked.
Rachel rocked back on her heels, mortified. “Ah—aw.”
“Close your mouth, dear. This is Service. We show other women folk when our men are off the market. He’s watching you.
I best be going to help Bethany organize the donations before the church ladies come for pickup.
But remember, show Noah how to win your heart,” she whispered before flouncing off, a PG-13 fairy godmother ready to ambush another romantically awkward Cinderella.
The screen door at her back slammed, the sound jostling her frayed nerves.
Her dad materialized, dressed in a crisp green T-shirt and blue jeans, his face clean-shaven, his silver-waved mane flowing over his shoulders.
Though her dad had retired from supplying local restaurants with fresh produce and vegetables, he still rose early to tend the horses, the chicken coop, and, of course, the three goats, as they needed camera-ready coats at all times.
“Here’s your gloves,” he said, placing them in her hand. Then he stared at the bodies in motion. “Who’s watching, RJ?”
“No one,” Rachel sighed. She peered around his shoulder, expecting to see Bethany. “Where’s your other half?”
Her dad smiled. “Ah.” He blushed, his lips parting into the goofiest grin. “She’s sleepin’ in.”
Then he proceeded to hitch up the waistband of his pants. Oh, dear angels above. Did she wake up in a Black Mirror episode? Her Dad was having s-e-x. Nope, she couldn’t say the word, not even in her mind.
“Dad you’ve got to stop. Seriously, I’m going to need therapy.”
To her horror, he pulled her in for a hug and whispered, “One day, when you’re ready… I’ll tell ya’ how you got here.”
“Not funny, Dad. Childhood trauma doesn’t end at eighteen. No more innuendoes.” She preferred the illusion that her dad was asexual, like an amoeba or a sea cucumber. Scratch that. Cucumber metaphors were off-limits. “Kids can’t know this stuff.”
“It’s my job to teach you.”
“Not that.” She pushed his shoulder in jest.
“Okay. Okay.” He paused a second, his playful stance straightening.
“I appreciate you asking after my Bethany. She mentioned y’all had a good talk the other night…
” Her dad stopped short of asking the question.
Instead, he left the rest hanging, hopeful she’d pick up the unfinished business and tie off any loose ends.
“Girl talk.” She shrugged. “I needed to think through some things.” Mainly whether it was safe to go to Noah, touch every inch of him with her hands until she was satisfied he was healthy and whole. Turns out, it was a good move. The best.
“Bethany’s a good woman. Fast to listen, slow to judge.”
“Yeah,” Rachel swallowed, “I—ah. I made progress on the redevelopment project. You know… added the disaster preparedness concepts, made a few schematics.”
Her father pulled her in for another hug. “Thanks, kiddo.”
“For what?” Rachel managed to squeal out the words while in a bear hug.
“For loving what I love.”
Her father’s body shook. Overwhelmed, Rachel struggled to choke back the building wall of emotion.
“You two look close to tears. Can I help?” a familiar voice drawled.
She released her dad. Noah approached, his expression amenable, but his hazel eyes burning with fire. She found herself heating with desire. After spending most of the morning savoring his kisses, she looked forward to what came next.
“You’ve been gone awhile, Six.” Those piercing eyes belied his relaxed stance. “Found what you were looking for?”
“Yeah, got my gloves handy,” she said, waving the pair in her grip. An image of herself in his arms, his big hand cupping her neck, holding her safe and secure, invaded her thoughts, running rampant like… subterranean termites.
Her dad rubbed the bridge of his nose, then released a long sigh. “Good morning to you, too, Noah. Didn’t realize I was invisible till now.”
“Sorry, Matt.”