CHAPTER NINE #2
“Sara MacAllister,” she mumbled, almost to herself. Her eyes were focused on the other woman who was clearly watching our interaction. “You found out her last name then? And she has your phone number?”
“Yeah.” I saw the look on her face, and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let her walk out thinking I was going to hook up with the very girl she’d been worried about over the summer. “I didn’t give it to her. I don’t know how she got it. She means nothing at all to me. You know that, right?”
“Sure.” She gave a half-hearted smile. “So, I hate to talk about this at your father’s funeral, but you won’t answer my calls or texts. I feel like this is the only chance I’m going to have. You don’t want a girlfriend right now? And you want me to go back to school. Where does that, um, leave us?”
I could hear the tremble in her voice, and I had to clench my hands to keep myself from grabbing her, holding her, and telling her the truth. “I don’t know, Cara. I’m covered up here. Can’t you see that?”
She swallowed hard. “Yes, I can see that. I don’t mean to be insensitive, it’s just…
well, I don’t understand what’s happening.
Just a week ago you told me you loved me and that you wanted to move with me to Charleston.
Now you don’t want a girlfriend, and you won’t even text me? It’s just such a huge change.”
I looked at her. I knew I had to drive it home, but I couldn’t bring myself to be totally cruel. “Can we just play it by ear? See how things turn out?”
She stared at me in disbelief. “Play it by ear. Okay. I’m not exactly sure what that means…”
I studied her face for a long moment, and then I said the words I knew I had to say.
“Sorry. Things just didn’t work out for us.
” She winced. I started to turn away from her, but she reached out and grabbed my hand.
The same spark, the same jolt of electricity or chemistry or whatever it was that had always been between us was still there.
I looked down at our hands, relishing the feel of hers in mine. It felt right, like she was part of me and we were meant to be together. Reluctantly, I pulled mine away, breaking the connection.
Her hand dropped to her side. “Wait. Please. Can I text you? Will you stay in touch?”
“Don’t you think we’ll both be too busy for that?
” I looked over my shoulder at her and asked it off-handedly, pretending it didn’t matter to me.
That it didn’t bother me that I was ending what we’d had.
I stood there watching her for a beat too long, hating that I could see tears shining in her eyes.
“Take care of yourself. Thanks for coming.”
And I did the hardest thing I’d had to do all day. It wasn’t burying my father. It wasn’t providing emotional support for my mother. It wasn’t thinking about the storm of work that was about to come crashing down around me.
No. It was walking away from Cara Hargrave when all I wanted to do was hug her to me and beg her to never leave me. To tell her I needed her, and that I didn’t think I could get through all of this without her.
I didn’t look back. Instead, I went and stood with my mom and forced myself to smile and talk to all the women who suddenly wanted to help me.
The next time I looked up, she was gone.
***
Over the next several weeks, I craved her texts. Her phone calls. But of course I didn’t get any. Not a single one. Not that I expected to. Why would she contact me after the way I’d treated her at the funeral?
That month after Dad died had turned into a blur.
It was an endless cycle of work, sleep, and work again, with no breaks.
Thank goodness for Lyle Hargrave and Hawthorne Whittaker.
They took it upon themselves to help me through the crisis.
Without them and their expertise, I’m not sure Ashton Orchards would have survived.
But by eight weeks in, I was starting to make headway.
I was starting to understand how things worked.
I was finding a rhythm to the workday. I’d learned that if I spent all day every day in my office I’d go stir crazy.
So, I balanced my day a bit. I started and ended each day in the orchards.
I’d oversee harvesting, check on crops, work on machinery—things I’d done for my dad sometimes when I was home from boarding school.
I had to be out in nature some each day, working with my hands, using my muscles, or I’d end up like my dad—dead of a heart attack too soon because I didn’t take care of myself.
Sometimes I even surprised the workers by joining the harvest, enjoying getting a workout through manual labor.
I’d always liked it, and that hadn’t changed.
I’d also filled some of the necessary administrative positions at the company.
I’d promoted from within whenever I could and gradually built up a team of people I knew I could trust. My days started early and ended late.
I was doing everything I possibly could to make sure Ashton Orchards kept running.
The days turned to weeks, and the weeks turned to months.
I dreamed of Cara, but I did my best not to think about her during the day.
After almost three months of non-stop work, I was ready to drop.
So, when Lufton came to town to stay with me for a weekend, I was thrilled to blow off some steam.
We’d ended up in a field somewhere on the outskirts of North Wixby for some sort of college bash thrown by one of the fraternities at Wixby College.
I had no idea how Lufton knew about it. I’d long since stopped questioning how he managed to find himself in the middle of all the best, most sought-after parties no matter where he was.
Besides, I usually benefitted from it, too.
And tonight was no different. We arrived at what seemed to be the height of the party.
There was a small bonfire in the middle of a large clearing with woods bordering the edges of the gathering.
People were everywhere; it was packed. Within thirty seconds of walking up, Lufton and I both had a cold beer in our hands and beautiful women hanging on our arms.
It was a good night. For the first time in weeks, I was able to channel all my sadness over having to end things with Cara, my frustration over my work situation, and the guilt over my father’s death into a wild, raucous good time.
I’d gotten completely ripped, drunker than I’d ever been in my life.
It wasn’t until I was walking out of a clearing with a barely clothed giggling blonde on each arm that I started questioning my decisions.
I was also starting to feel a little sick.
I’d stumbled around and ended up sleeping for a while next to a log.
Lufton had eventually found me there and helped me to his car.
Later, on our drive home, Lufton would barely look at me. He was sober, having nursed one beer over the course of the entire evening. He had wanted to help me just forget about all the responsibilities I had on my shoulders for a while, so he hadn’t minded being the designated driver.
But now he had a strange, almost judgmental look in his eyes, and I wasn’t sure why. “Please tell me you used a condom.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face, thinking back and trying to remember. “I did,” I said, relieved.
“Good.” He turned and faced the road, but I saw a muscle flex in his jaw. “Of all the fucking people. I can’t believe you chose sexy Sara.”
I stared at him. “What?”
“Sara? The girl at the picnic this summer who flirted with you right in front of Cara?”
“What are you talking about?”
Lufton’s eyebrows raised. “Sexy Sara and her equally sexy friend? You do remember you were with them tonight, right?”
I swallowed hard. Tell me no. Tell me I didn’t just have sex with the one girl Cara had been worried about trusting me around. I groaned and rested my head against the headrest. A pit grew in my stomach. “That was her?”
“You were that drunk? You didn’t even know who you were fucking?”
“I guess so,” I said quietly, hating myself. “And it was dark.”
“I wanted you to let loose and have fun, man, but I had no idea you were going to go quite that far.” He shook his head, a grim look on his face.
“Well, if you wanted to make sure you and Cara were over, that’ll do it.
As soon as she hears you were with Sara, she won’t want to have anything to do with you again. ”
He wasn’t wrong. I stared out the window. I had seriously messed up. If, by some miracle, Cara was still single when she came home from school this summer, she wouldn’t want to be with me. Ever.
A few days later, I finally got a text from Cara. I was so excited until I read it and realized she was basically asking if I was sure that we couldn’t be together.
Because she had a guy she was going to go out with if I was positive we were done.
I’d stared at it for a long time, caught between letting her go or begging her to come back to me. I knew I couldn’t beg her to come back, though. She needed to be where she was. And she wouldn’t want me once she found out who I’d been with.
I finally sent her a long text telling her I would always love her, and I hoped we’d have another chance someday. Then I’d said I wanted her to feel free to move on and see other people. That I couldn’t offer her anything more than friendship.
I’d stopped short of telling her about Sara. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I guess I was too much of a chicken. Yes, I didn’t want to hurt her, but I also wanted to preserve what she’d thought of me for as long as I could.
I got a short, polite text back in response.
It would be almost a full year before I heard from her again.
***
I had moved to the back of the room and was looking out the windows at the well-lit span of manicured lawns and gardens down below me, not really seeing anything since I was lost in my thoughts.
“You are looking far too serious for a party.”
I turned to see Nora Hart standing beside me, and I smiled at her. “Yes, I guess so,” I said, sipping my drink. “I was just thinking.”
She leaned in at an angle that practically begged me to check out her cleavage in her low-cut cocktail dress.
The movement felt very purposeful, and I fought the urge to move away from her.
I kept my eyes firmly on her face. “Are you hiding over here because you look like you’re wearing the same tux you wore to your first high school prom? ”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Most people were too polite to point out that I looked ridiculous. Nora smiled up at me and moved a hand to my arm. Her purpose was apparent. She was flirting with me. She was interested.
“You know,” she said, moving even closer to me, “Daddy has been wanting the two of us to meet for a while now. I think it’s why he was so interested in your… fruit.” Her eyes dipped to my mouth, and she licked her lips. “You’re staying here tonight, right?”
I nodded, feeling more and more uncomfortable.
She gave me a sexy smile. “Well, then I plan on sampling your fruit, too.” She stood on her tiptoes and whispered in my ear, “Leave your door unlocked tonight.”
I backed away from her so fast, she almost fell over. I adjusted my bowtie, suddenly feeling as if I couldn’t breathe. I opened my mouth to say something, struggling to think of what might be a polite way to turn her down, but she jumped in before I could.
“Just look how happy Daddy is that we’re together.”
I swallowed hard. I didn’t like the way she emphasized the word ‘together’. She said it like it had an intense sexual meaning, as if we were one step away from fucking against her parents’ picture window in their ballroom. But the truth was the polar opposite.
I was dying to get away from her. Was she pretty? Sure… but there was something about her I found unattractive. I just couldn’t quite put a finger on it.
I followed her gaze and saw Garrison watching the two of us. He was smiling like he was about to announce we were engaged or something. More and more, I was starting to believe that Garrison didn’t really care that much about carrying fruit from Ashton Orchards in his chain of stores.
It seemed a whole lot more like he planned on a much more personal type of relationship—one between his daughter and me.
Oh God. This was not what I planned on at all. If it weren’t for the fact that I had every reason to believe Cara Hargrave was about to walk through the doors of the Hart estate, I’d be out of here, with or without a contract.
I was starting to wonder where Harvey, Garrison’s driver, was. Had he brought my car here as promised? Did he have my keys?
Or was Garrison holding them hostage?