When he spotted a tear in the irrigation system, he kneeled to fix it. She knelt, too, her arm brushing his. This close, he caught a whiff of her scent again, a combination of vanilla and strawberries. She’d smelled the same back in college.
She watched him mend the hose with the tape he carried in his pocket. He’d come back later for a more permanent fix.
“Do you use pesticides on the trees?” she asked as they stood.
“We use our own.”
“Your own?”
“I’ve developed a safer substance, using salt in the irrigation system instead of chemicals.”
“Wow, that’s great. How does it work?”
They cleared a row, turned down another. “The salt absorbs the fluids that come from an insect’s body and they succumb to dehydration before they can damage the trees. It works especially well on spiders.”
“And it doesn’t harm the trees?”
“No.”
“So, you might not be an animal doctor, but you are a tree doctor.”
He knew she meant it as a compliment, but it reminded him of what he’d lost. Who he’d lost. “That’s it for today,” he lied, because all of a sudden the thing he needed most was space and time alone.
Two years, nine months ago…
Dear Nicole,
It’s the first Christmas since you’ve been gone, and my family is waiting for me at Mom and Dad’s. I don’t know if I have the strength to go. I don’t know if I can be around Cole and Bethany and Jenna and not begrudge them something that was never in the cards for us. It’s not their fault, and yet it helps to find blame in safe places. My brothers have never loved me harder, no matter how awfully I speak to them. They put a damn Christmas tree up in my living room last week to knock some cheer into me. It didn’t work, but for them I pretended it did.
All the happy faces on the ranch this past month have been torture. It’s been our busiest tree season yet, and all I can think is I’m not supposed to be here. I’m supposed to be with you, working in our veterinary clinic during the day and sharing dinner in our tiny apartment overlooking downtown at night. That was our dream. It’s impossible for me to think of a new one. At least right now. Merry Christmas, Nicole.
Miss you like crazy,
Maverick
Chapter Eight
Five days until the wedding
Kennedy held on to the seat handle for dear life and pressed her feet flat on the floor of the golf cart to keep herself from bouncing. She’d never ridden a mechanical bull, but this seemed like a pretty close simulation. “Jeez, could you drive any faster?”
“I could,” Maverick said, not the least bit bothered by the bumps in the dirt road.
Grr. Whatever bug had crawled up his ass, it was lodged way up there. One minute they’d been having a polite, educational conversation and the next he’d turned rigid and quiet, clearly anxious to be free of her. He’d never been this hot and cold in college. Something besides herself, she’d hazard to guess, bothered him. He needed the worry stone in his car in his pocket today. “This isn’t the way we came.”
“It’s a shortcut.”
She laughed. It was either that or insult him for being the jerkiest of jerks. The man obviously wanted her out of his sight. He scowled at her, making her laugh harder.
The barn came into view. The ocean. A small hill to the south covered in pink and white flowers.
When Maverick came to an abrupt stop near the entrance to the inn, she almost asked him for that ride on George, just to mess with him.
Instead she said, “Thanks,” even though she didn’t think he deserved her good manners at the moment. “I liked seeing the trees and learning more about what you do here.” It had been a nice way to kill time until Reed texted her.
Maverick’s reply came in the form of a curt nod before he hit the gas pedal a half second after she’d cleared the cart. A puff of dust literally blew up into her face. She coughed and lifted her hand to give him the middle finger, but then the golf cart stopped.
He got out, his long, jean-clad legs eating up the distance between them. He lifted the faded red ball cap off his head, jammed his fingers through his light brown hair, and put the hat on backward. He wasn’t hiding his striking blue eyes. Wasn’t avoiding the glare she shot him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, coming to stand an arm’s length in front of her. His sincerity made it difficult to stay angry with him.
“You should be,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
His eyes dipped down to her V-neck, then jumped back up to her face. “I am.” They stared at each other. “I’ll, uh, see you later. Enjoy your afternoon.”
She turned away at the same time he did, not sure what had just happened. She walked toward a random path to focus her thoughts on Reed instead of Maverick. At brunch earlier, he and Elle had looked in love, but she, better than anyone, knew that looks could be deceiving. She’d thought Trevor had loved her when in reality he’d been biding his time, waiting for someone special, and that someone turned out to be her sister. At least he’d had the decency to break up with her before dating Victoria. And the whole “it’s not you, it’s me” speech dropped the sting of rejection from a ten to a seven. But still. He’d damaged her trust, and if that was Reed’s issue, she could more than relate.
“And, Kennedy?” Maverick said, stopping her in her tracks. “I think you should stay out of it.”
She twisted back around. “It?”
“The wedding. You need to leave Reed and Elle alone. Let them make their own decisions.”
“Don’t you have trees to get back to?”
“They’re not going anywhere.”
“No, but I am. Away from you, in case you couldn’t tell.”
“The inn has a reputation to uphold. ”
“I know, but is that more important than someone’s happiness?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it.”
“Okay, how about this… What makes you an expert on Reed?”
“He’s my friend and…” She didn’t want to talk about the details. She didn’t owe Maverick an explanation. “He’s confided certain things to me.”
“Was he drunk when he did?”
How did he know that? She kept her face blank. “Now you’re the expert?”
He walked toward her. “I know a thing or two.”