Chapter 4
“You don’t have to look so smug about it,” I grumble from the passenger seat.
He says nothing, but his lips stay tipped up, making me want to wipe it off his scruffy face. I don’t, since he’s driving and that would be dangerous.
“You never introduced yourself. It’s Peter, right?” I know that’s not his name, but he deserves it since he didn’t bother telling me what it was back in the parking lot.
The muscle in his jaw clenches. “Parker.”
“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” I ask, even though saying it seemed physically painful for him.
He doesn’t respond, and my instincts to smooth things over kick back in the longer we ride in awkward silence.
This really will be easier if we can be civil to one another.
“Look, maybe we should start over,” I say grudgingly. “I’m Sloan.”
Maybe he’s more forgiving than he looks.
He’s smiling, so that must be a good sign.
He glances over, his hard eyes rake over my face, lingering.
My usual instinct would be to make friendly conversation.
Still, there’s something about him that prevents me from employing my usual good nature to diffuse the situation, and I refuse to break eye contact first. No matter how much those deep brown eyes make me want to squirm.
Finally, he turns his attention back to the dirt road ahead, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel as amusement dances in his dark brown eyes.
“Sloan, huh?” he says, though his tone is too flat to sound like a question. “That’s not what your name tag says.”
Name tag? Irritation gives way to confusion. And then, when his eyes flick down to my Juicy track pants, the cold horror of realization washes over me. So much for nobody seeing me in this outfit.
Oh god. If only Lyla could see me now.
“It’s a travel outfit,” I say, as if that’s any excuse, but it only deepens that smirk.
For several minutes, Parker does a convincing job of acting like I’m not even in the car.
I take the opportunity to study him more closely, my gaze trailing over the hard line of his jaw underneath dark stubble, the slope of his slightly upturned nose.
Irritated, I pull my eyes away, letting out a huff.
“Something wrong?”
I cross my arms. “Yes, actually. Thanks to you, I have to figure out how to get my luggage off the bus, which is headed God knows where.” Screw being civil. Being civil is overrated.
He casts a glance my way, a crease forming between his dark brows. “It’s in the trunk.”
“I mean the rest of it. I left two more bags on the bus because you distracted me.”
“Jesus, I thought you were only here a week. How much stuff do you need?”
I bite my tongue, facing the window.
“You are only here for one week … right?”
The way he asks the question makes it crystal clear what he wants my answer to be.
I don’t need to explain myself to him, though.
I will need to run it by Tabitha at some point.
When she and I made these plans, I was only supposed to visit until next weekend.
That was all I would have been able to afford before diving into renovations and setting up the shop, drumming up business with an aggressive marketing plan to get the doors open and customers flocking in by the holidays.
Now, though, I have no business to go back to, no boyfriend waiting for me, and I’ve been living in my parents’ house.
Not exactly the ideal place to wrap my head around the fact that my dad isn’t really my father …
I’m not angry. I need some space to figure out how I feel about everything and decide what to do next. Salem Stables is the only place I’ve never had someone breathing down my neck with expectations.
“Are you at least going to tell her?”
My head snaps back to Parker, whose jaw is clenched as he stares through the windshield. “Excuse me?”
“If you’re going to squat at her place, you should at least give her the courtesy of a heads up.”
“It’s not squatting. It’s just an extended visit, that’s all. It’s not like it’s permanent.”
For as far back as I can remember, Salem Stables had been my second home, something Tabitha isn’t shy about reminding me.
Still, a tiny kernel of doubt is worming its way inside me.
Once she finds out the truth, will the door remain as open as it once was?
Staring out the window, I chew at my polished red nail.
I would never have hesitated before asking to stick around indefinitely, but I can’t shake the fear that she’ll treat me differently when I tell her the truth.
I’ve never felt like an intrusion before.
Now, it claws at my insides, making me doubt everything about our relationship.
Like it or not, thanks to the results of that stupid DNA test, things will be different now.
I glance back at Parker, who’s still frowning. He looks like he’s not quite done giving me a hard time.
“Does Tabitha know that?” he asks, a bite lacing his words.
I squirm in my seat. “It’s … a surprise.” Truthfully, I’m no closer to deciding how to bring it up. I’d hoped to figure it out on the three-hour bus ride, but here I am, nearly at the farm and officially out of time.
He scoffs under his breath.
I throw a glare his way, doing my best to burn a hole in the side of his head. “Is there a problem?”
“Nope.”
“Really? Because there’s a judgy vibe on your side of the car, which is pretty ironic, if you ask me.”
He arches a brow. “Where did you say the judgy vibes were coming from again?”
“I’m just stating facts. I’ve seen a million freeloaders like you come and go at the farm.”
The way his jaw twitches, I can tell immediately that I’ve struck a nerve, but he recovers quickly enough to spit out, “I’m not the one showing up unannounced on her doorstep expecting her to put me up for a handout. Sorry, extended vacation.”
“This is not a vacation,” I argue.
“That’s true. Generally, you have to pay for a vacation.”
I gape, unable to believe my ears.
“Must be nice to take a spontaneous trip with no responsibilities waiting for you,” he continues, gaining steam. “So, which Kardashian do you want to be when you grow up?”
“It’s a travel outfit!” I cry, waving a helpless hand over my clothes. Though with the rolling fields passing us in a blur beyond the dusty windows, I have to admit that I do kind of look like Paris Hilton from The Simple Life. Not that I’ll admit it out loud.
“Whatever you say, Princess.”
“Don’t call me that,” I snap.
I’m almost grateful that he isn’t trying to play nice. I’m used to being the people pleaser, but so much happened last week that my mind is fried. Not having to filter myself is kind of a relief. I didn’t intend to take my anger out on him, but he’s being a dick. I’m giving back what I’m getting.
“So, how long have you been scamming off my aunt?”
“Unbelievable,” he mutters with a shake of his head. “You know, when someone goes out of their way to help you, the bare minimum you can do is say thank you. But I’m sure that’s not in your vocabulary, so I’ll try not to hold it against you.”
His tone suggests he is very much holding it against me.
A flare of guilt burns hot in my belly as I realize … he’s right. I was so focused on being braced to see Tabitha for the first time that Parker’s presence had thrown my brain into an inconveniently timed software update.
The easiest solution would be to apologize and thank him now. If there’s anything my mom taught me about thank \-you cards, it’s better late than never. But …
All everyone has told me for the last week is that I’ll get over it. Nothing’s really changed. The business never got off the ground, so it’s not like we lost it. I didn’t live with Caleb, so the break-up can’t hurt that bad. The DNA test doesn’t change anything.
They all want me to carry on without feeling anything. But I do. I feel … angry. I can’t explain why, but I’m done letting people tell me everything is fine.
“You,” I drag out the word, stabbing a finger towards Parker, “don’t know the first thing about me. I happen to be going through a crisis, so I’m sorry if saying thank you is low on my priority list when I thought I was about to get murdered by a serial killer in the middle of Nowhereseville.”
Okay, mad or not, I sound ridiculous. I’m being dramatic, and I usually would rein it in (like, way in), but what’s the point?
It’s not like this guy will still be working for Tabitha when I return for my next visit.
Heck, based on the ones I’ve met in the past, there’s a good chance I’ll outlast him on this visit.
My chest is heaving and I feel fierce for standing up for myself for the first time in ages.
I can’t tell from his baffled expression if he wants to rip my head off or ask me what I’m talking about.
“You need help,” he tells me.
Before I can sever his carotid artery in response, I spot the Salem Stables sign up ahead, swaying in the fall breeze.
The words dry up on my tongue as we pull into the long driveway, the familiar crunch of gravel under the tires.
I was so wrapped up arguing with Parker that I didn’t have time to stress out as we got closer.
I feel his eyes on me again, like he’s surprised I’m letting his insult slide, but I’m too busy staring out the window at the canopy of towering, hundred-year-old maple trees flanking us, the green just beginning to give way to tinges of rich orange and yellows and reds.
A dozen horses graze in fenced-in fields on either side, their heads popping up to investigate the sound as we bounce past on the narrow, slightly uneven driveway.
My heart climbs into my throat as we roll up to the soft yellow farmhouse.
Beside it sits a long black barn with white trim, the big door wide open like a pair of awaiting arms.
Welcome home.
The Jeep jerks to a stop between the house and the barn, pitching me forward.
If the sight of the farm hadn’t already rendered me speechless, the sight of Tabitha waving wildly from the front porch would have done it.
Her frizzy, brown hair is loose and wild around her face; nothing is reserved about her.
The front porch yawns behind her and the same wooden swing I used to curl up on to read Nancy Drew mysteries is swaying on its chains as if waving too.
I probably spent as many hours on that porch as I did inside the house, back when everything was much simpler.
“If you’re waiting for me to open your door, you’re going to be here a while,” Parker grunts beside me, snapping me out of my thoughts. “And trust me, Princess, the chauffeur service was a one-time thing.”
I barely hear him as I fumble out of the Jeep and rush forward, legs moving on autopilot.
I fall into her at the bottom of the porch steps, practically tackling her.
I could weep at the feel of her arms looping around me and squeezing tight, for dear life.
She hugs me exactly like I knew she would.
She smells like green apple shampoo and paint; I know she’s been in her studio.
As she describes it, the farm is her hobby, but art is her career.
Like my dad and their brother, Tabitha grew up here but she was the only one interested in taking over the farm when my grandparents passed away.
Since then, she’s made it the best of both worlds, boarding horses to earn money and fill the gaps when her pottery and art sales are slow.
Digging deep into whatever willpower reserves I have left; I manage not to burst into tears as we rock back and forth excitedly. Finally, we pull back enough to look at each other with watery laughter.
It’s a touching moment—so of course, Parker ruins it.
My suitcase lands with a thud next to my feet, and I jump.
“Careful with this one, Tibby,” Parker says over my shoulder. “She’s itching to leave a bad Yelp review. We have to hope it’s not high enough on her list of priorities.”
The condescending curl of his lips makes my blood boil all over again.
“Does the Welcome Wagon know about you?” I snap, rising to the bait. I’m faintly aware that I’d be even more annoyed if I wasn’t grateful to have an outlet for all my feelings finally.
“I see you two have already gotten to know each other,” Tabitha says, as if we were trading compliments instead of insults.
She keeps one arm around my shoulder. After everything, I can’t help but lean into her comforting grip.
“I can’t tell you how happy it makes me that you’re finally meeting!
I knew you would get along. I just knew it! ”
“Definitely. I left my friendship bracelet in the car,” he deadpans. “I’ve got some stuff to do in the barn. You need anything else, Tibby?”
It doesn’t escape my notice that his tone is much softer with her, with a warmth that’s almost … friendly.
“No, just the one emergency favor today,” she says as she rubs my arm. “Thanks again, Parker. You’re a lifesaver.”
He shakes his head. “No problem.”
My eyes practically bug out of my head. No problem? He told me no fewer than three times how much of a problem it was for him to go out of his way to pick me up. Suddenly, for Tibby, he’s all stop-and-smell-the-roses?
Without another look at me, he strides towards the large black barn, hands in his pockets. I watch him go, suddenly less sure than I was on the ride over that he’ll be gone within a couple of weeks.
Tabitha bumps my hip with hers. “What do you think, same place, better view?”
I snort. “Hardly. I was trying to see the loose wire. He’s defective.”
She shakes her head. “Trust me, they don’t make ‘em much better than that. Come on,” she says, hauling my heavy suitcase up the steps herself. “Let’s get you settled in.”
I follow her inside, feeling more at ease than I have in days. I like the sound of that.