“There’s no way you just saved me from a rattlesnake, or any lethal snake for that matter,” Skye said, putting a consoling hand on his shoulder. The stiff, itchy fabric bit her hand and she immediately retracted it. “I’m sorry, Theo, I really do hate to break it to you after the heroics and all, but black snakes are a dime a dozen out here.”
“It wasn’t black.”
“I’m sure it was—”
“It wasn’t.”
“I’ll bet you anything that’s what it was.”
“You’d bet dinner?”
The words came out of Theo’s mouth so quickly he looked almost as startled as she was that he said it. Skye looked at him for several seconds, watching for clues in his expression. For regret in his words.
But his onyx eyes only grew steadier as they gazed at her.
Finally, she nodded. “Dinner. Fine. If you win, you buy me dinner. But if I win”—Skye raised a brow—“I get to hand you the snake.”
Theo looked as though he had just choked on his own breath. “No. Something else.”
Skye shrugged. “What’s the problem? You’re the one so sure of this bet.” She grinned, seeing the red splotches forming on his neck. “Good grief, Theo. Either you’re getting hives from the idea or you seriously need to take off that flannel.”
“Fine. Deal.” Theo put out his hand.
Skye shook it, a smile starting to form. “This is going to be so good.”
A minute later Skye was standing on the spot.
“Okay, Romeo, where is it?”
Theo, looking both incredibly uncomfortable and committed, stood in the barest patch of dirt cleared by the tractor and scanned the area. Skye, meanwhile, began stalking through the thick underbrush beneath the canopy of woods.
“There.” Theo pointed, looking ready to jump on the tractor itself.
“Theo, it’s a yard snake, not an anaconda. It’s not going to get you twenty feet away.”
Skye moved toward the base of a lightning-cracked tree.
“Stop. Not that close.” Protesting spasms came out of Theo’s throat with every step.
Finally, she stepped directly on the spot he was pointing at and looked up. “There’s nothing here.”
“Skye Renee,” Theo hissed, pointing at the ground beside her, “do not make me pick you up again.”
Skye stiffened, her neck tingling at the sound of her name. Theo was so focused on the ground at her feet he didn’t even seem aware of what he’d said.
“Are you sure it’s even here?” Skye said, returning her gaze to the ground. “I don’t see—”
A patch of grass rippled but two feet away, and she took a guarded step backward. She squatted, squinting to see through the blades. “C’mooon, black snake . . . ,” she murmured. “Theo wants to hold you.”
She reached forward, started to sweep aside some blades, and then—
The beady eyes of a beige snake stared at her, its body already twisted into striking position.
Skye snapped her hand away, rose, and took three measured steps backward just as Theo started to move toward her.
“Well, I’ll be darned,” Skye said, pushing both hands in her back pockets. “You called it.”
Theo took Skye by both shoulders and moved them back five more feet. When he let go, he put his hands on his hips, looking as though he was trying to be both relaxed and smug, but preoccupied by the fact they were still in the woods. “Well, I have done quite a bit of research on snakes. Phobias tend to lend a hand in that—”
“So you win. And”—she tilted her head back at the snake—“while I doubt it would’ve done anything, it could’ve bitten me if I got too close, so . . . thanks, Romeo. I guess I owe you dinner.”
Chapter 11
Theo
It took another hour to flip the tractor, and another two to return Luke’s, but by lunchtime, with Skye’s persistence, he had mastered the act of driving a tractor five miles an hour on flat land. It was quite the accomplishment.
They spent the afternoon on their knees planting seedlings, and when the sun started to creep toward the horizon, with sodden pants and dirt crusted beneath every nail bed, Skye set the last seedling from the box into the hole Theo had dug and gave the small, fragile treetop an admiring pat. She stood, flyaways escaping from her ponytail, powdered by the rust-colored dirt. Looked up at him after a long day’s work. Smiled.
She was breathtaking.
“You’re up,” she said, and Theo blinked, remembering he was still holding the shovel.
“Your father is an impressive man,” Theo said, pushing the dirt back into its hole.
Skye, hands on both hips, tilted her head in his direction. “Yeah? How so?”
Theo shoveled another clod of dirt into the hole, his hands aching. “How not so? Apart from Christmas season, he’s single-handedly managed this farm the whole of his adult life. I bet the work we did together today he could’ve done alone in the same span of time.”
Skye laughed. “Theo. The work we did today I could’ve done in the same span of time.” She waited a beat, pushed some flyaways from her eyes. “Anyway, yes, Dad keeps this place alive.”
There was an undercurrent in her tone as she said it, something uneasy.
She kicked the dirt and looked up at him. “I don’t think I realized how much he truly deserves for all his hard work until I moved back here. Back in Seattle, I went to a bakery beneath my studio every morning on my way to work. Spent ten dollars sliding my card through for a muffin and honey latte and didn’t think twice. Why? Because I made three hundred times that on every piece and every commission and business was steady. But here it’s different. Dad’s hands crack and bleed for his living. I’d forgotten what that felt like until I came back.”
She squinted as she looked at him, her brown eyes looking deep into his. “Isn’t he admirable?”
Theo inhaled as he set the shovel on the ground. Exhaled as he heard the subtle accusation in her question.
There was so much she didn’t know about her father.
He worked out the words before he spoke, careful to dodge the minefield. “I can honestly say I’ve never met a more loyal man—to the farm and to his family. And that, most certainly, is admirable.”
Skye held his gaze, blinked.
Unspoken words danced in their eyes.
He kept the secret he’d promised not to reveal. But was he bound from sharing it even with her? He’d have to ask. Get clarification. Or not. After all, the news shouldn’t come from him.
But what was she not saying?
As he opened his mouth, he thought he heard her almost imperceptible sigh. She returned her gaze to the receding sun. “Well, let’s get to that dinner, shall we? I’m starving.”
Theo’s jaw tightened and he hesitated, trying to decide whether to let that shadowy topic slink away. But she clapped her hands and a cloud of dirt drifted into the air. She slapped a determined smile on her face. “And I’m sure you’ll want a shower.”
Another time then.
“I wouldn’t complain,” he said, well aware of the dirt covering every crevice of his body. At this point, he’d had the urge to itch something for a solid twelve hours.