Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Emerson
I pull up in front of a small stone building. A newer wing juts out from the side.
Hillary eyes the building dubiously. “The librarian at school didn’t like me.”
“You don’t go to that school anymore.” That’s one good thing that’s come from this whole will and trust thing.
There’ve been a few good things, including waking up to Lane’s hand sliding into my pajama pants.
I’m getting far too used to that, and he was almost late for his plane to Denver.
“Besides, Clem likes you. You know that.”
“What if she doesn’t anymore?”
“Well, I know her and she’s not like that.” I don’t know her well and Hillary seems to sense that. Her expression stays worried. “I’ll fight her if she’s mean to you.”
Hillary giggles. “What if you lose?”
I suck in a scandalized gasp. “Lane calls me Scrappy.”
She doesn’t buy it and crosses her arms, a tiny reflection of me. “Clem lugs books around all day.”
“She also gives tours at the distillery and writes.” I straighten my arm, rotate it, and flex. A small outline of my triceps shows. “I type a lot too. See? I’m tough.”
She giggles. “Daddy would get mad if you got in a fight.”
“Yup. So let’s go.”
Hillary doesn’t move. Her eyes are more fraught and she’s shrinking in on herself. “She might hate me. And then she’ll tell the other kids—”
I ignore her and pull out my phone. I type in the search engine. “The largest domestic breed of rabbit is the Flemish giant.”
“I know that.”
“They originated in Belgium and have a catlike temperament.”
“Daddy won’t let me get one.”
I start walking to the library, and she follows me like she’s forgotten the fear that froze her only a minute ago. “Is it because they can weigh almost twenty pounds?”
“I told him I would take care of it.” We reach the door, and she frowns, looking down the walk. At her accusing scowl, I shrug. “Have you used the facts I sent you?”
I should whip out her ten chicken facts every time I think about Lane presenting me with divorce papers. “I haven’t needed to.”
What if I get the papers ready instead?
A band tightens around my ribs. I swallow and my throat burns. But I’d be in control. I wouldn’t be waiting, and there’d be relief in that. Right? I’d be in control.
That man makes me feel like I’m spinning through space. He’s always there to catch me too. But one day, he may not be.
Clem walks by and grins when she spots Hillary. “Hey, girl. I’ve been looking for you.”
“You have?” Hillary turns shy.
“We just got some new books on the shelves. You get to be the first to see them.” Clem cocks her head to follow her.
I wander behind them, and a message buzzes on my phone.
Lane: Thinking about you.
I chew the inside of my cheek to hold back a grin that I might have to explain if my niece sees. When they stop to check out a middle-grade shelving unit, I half turn and type out a message.
Me: I haven’t thought about you for one minute today.
I nibble my lower lip. Three dots flash on the screen.
Lane: Not even when I was coming inside you?
I catch my moan before it slips out. We showered together after he took care of the cattle and I finished feeding and watering the chickens. Good thing he’s one of the bosses and that plane waited for him.
Me: I was thinking about the turkeys I’m going to go buy.
Lane sends a picture of a roasted Thanksgiving turkey, and my laugh cracks through the silence.
Clem and Hillary look at me. The spot between my shoulder blades itches. I’m getting stares from the other side of the library.
“Sorry,” I whisper, and I want to hunch, make myself as small as possible so I’m not called into the office.
Clem smiles. “Laughing isn’t prohibited in this library. We’re a happy bunch.”
My relief is acute, and my appreciation for Clem grows.
I shouldn’t be so insecure. The way I’ve been welcomed to town should erase what I’ve been through.
But nothing can, and my outburst proves it.
The past won’t leave me. At least I can stay and make sure Hillary finds her place in a town that made me feel so out of place.
My phone buzzes again.
Lane: Too far?
My lips twitch.
Me: I’m looking at turkey diapers right now. Inside pet?
Lane sends a different picture of a roasted turkey.
Lane: You should come out here.
I don’t jump at the chance to return to Denver, and I should. Wasn’t I just thinking about how I’m not a local and never will be? My apartment is in Colorado.
Me: It’s only a short nine-hour drive.
Lane: I’ll send the plane.
A sarcastic laugh leaves me, but I keep it quiet.
Hillary glances back at me. “Texting your boyfriend?”
“Husband?” Clem adds in a singsong tone.
“Lover,” Hillary whispers.
My jaw drops and Clem’s eyes go wide.
I giggle. “Hush your mouth, Bunny.” I put my back to them.
Me: A plane?
Lane: Whenever you’re ready.
Me: And stay at my place?
Lane: Or right here.
He stays at the distillery when he’s working there, and he wants me there with him.
Do I go?
My fingers hover over the phone screen. Brooks and Hillary would take care of the chickens. Cruz and Elodie would help with the cattle. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t go.
If I don’t, then what will I do? Work. Answer emails. Hang out with my chickens, the barn cats, and Lady. Eventually, I might even get one of the barn cats to come close to me.
If I don’t go, I’ll spend a lot of time missing Lane. A lot of time thinking about whether he’ll come home and decide he doesn’t like me there. I’ll sleep in his bed and cry about how the closing date of Brooks’s house and my house is bearing down on me.
Yet if I go . . . Will I tip over the edge? Will I fall so far for Lane that I won’t be able to help myself?
My pulse kicks up and I start breathing like I’m taking a brisk walk around the block. I can’t go, but I don’t want to be home alone, watching my time with Lane dwindle. I’m so tired of feeling powerless. But if I hop on a plane, if I run to Lane, I’m still on uneven ground.
What if I talk to an attorney? What if I set everything into motion? Will I feel better?
I don’t have to sit around and wait to be divorced on Lane’s timeline. I don’t even have to use the same lawyer Hutch used. Then I’ll know. It’ll be set, and once Brooks buys my home, I can live life on my terms.
I take the reins, and I get a fun weekend with a hot guy who’s amazing in bed.
Win-win.
There’s still a heaviness in my fingers, but determination pumps through my blood.
Me: Let me talk to Brooks. I have an errand to run, and I’ll let you know what time.
Lane: I’ll call the crew.
I wait just inside the door, watching a sleek white-and-blue plane taxi to the private gate.
When the door of the larger-than-expected plane opens, Lane stands in the entry, looking all suave in his dark-gray slacks and pale-blue shirt.
He still isn’t wearing a tie, and the first button is undone. He ducks out and jumps down the steps.
Mike, an employee of the small airport and a guy who was a few years ahead of me in school, opens the door. “You can head on out.”
I do, rolling my luggage behind me. To be funny, I wore my overalls and ponytails.
The private plane was supposed to have a pilot wearing khakis.
This is a fucking jet. A limo for the sky.
It has a crew. A groan slips out, but Mike stays in the building.
I’m strutting across the concrete, looking like Farmer Em, on my own.
At least embarrassment replaces the stress over having met with a lawyer and arranging everything. I probably shouldn’t have used someone who could get me in right away, but it’s not like I’ll have to fight Lane.
Now, I’m a hunk of coal sitting in a pile of diamonds. The little airport might be outside of Huckleberry Springs, but it’s nice, attracting all the big shots with money. How much did the Fosters have to do with expanding the facilities?
I’m trying, and failing, not to be impressed. I’m surrounded by his success. His money. I got a cheap lawyer, and I look like I just ran in from milking cows.
“You look hot, Scrappy.” Lane trots toward me, the wind ruffling his hair in the sexiest way. His grin is wide and all for me. How does he always put me at ease? Why can’t I just relax and enjoy this?
Why did I visit the lawyer before this?
He’s getting close, and I shove those thoughts in the corner. I strike a pose with my hands on my hips. “I look like I’m dating a chicken.”
“I’m not fighting Phillip for my girl.” He gives me a kiss. “I can’t wait to take those off.”
My toes curl. Soon. He’ll be working, and I will too, but we’ll be together. Naked, hopefully.
He takes the handle of my suitcase and gestures to the aircraft.
“Do you fly the plane too?” I joke, but it’d be a lot easier for me if he did, if it was just us.
He grins and takes the handle of my suitcase. “Not in my wheelhouse.”
Well, damn. When we reach the little flight of steps, he lets me go first. I try not to act like a sweet summer child when I enter.
There’s nothing but refinement around me.
Glossy wood finish and polished surfaces.
There’s a quad of plush chairs on one side, a couch on the other, and two recliners.
In the back is a small door. The bathroom? This is nicer than my apartment.
“Do you have meetings in here?” He could live here.
He puts his hand on the small of my back and nudges me forward. “I could, but we mostly use it as an air taxi.”
“Do you fly that often?”
“No, we rent it out.” He flashes me a smile. “Pick a chair and get comfy. I’ll store this in the room in the back, and Carol will go over takeoff with you.”
Carol? Room in the back?
When I turn, there’s a woman my mom’s age smiling at me. “Welcome, Mrs. Foster.”
“Oh, it’s not— Thank you. You can call me Emerson.” I don’t need to get into specifics. “There’s getting to be a lot of Mrs. Fosters.”
She chuckles and folds her hands in front of her. “I love seeing it.”
Her tone seems genuine and I relax. Sort of. I run my hands down my overalls. “I’m not, uh, dressed for this.”