Mia Ross - A Place for Family

“You still get to me, too, Sawyer.” Since that didn’t seem like enough, she added a warm smile. “Now let’s go get my car out of sight before it causes you any trouble.”

John opened the screen door and followed her outside. Slipping his hands into his back pockets, he said, “If we’re gonna be around each other all the time, we have to figure out a way to get along.”

“I’ll be nice if you will.”

Slanting a look over at her, he flashed a crooked grin. “Deal.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Inside the barn, he climbed onto a tractor and shifted to the far side of the seat. When she gave him a quizzical look, he said, “It’s a ways out there. You riding or walking?”

“Oh, right.” She pulled herself up, prepared to sit next to him the way she had when they were younger. She’d always loved riding around with him, bouncing over the plowed rows, laughing and not worrying about anything but holding on tightly to him.

Tonight, though, the seat looked way too small for the two of them to share. To keep things respectable, she perched on the metal step and grabbed on to an upright support with both hands. “Ready.”

Chuckling, he shook his head but didn’t say anything about her being ridiculous. He started the engine, fiddling with the throttle until the motor settled into a steady rumble. He took a straight course over the fields, and the first bump made Amanda yelp in surprise. He must have heard her, but instead of slowing down, he went faster.

Typical John, she thought, rolling her eyes. When they reached her car, he dialed the tractor down to idle, and the sound died enough for conversation.

“Thanks for going so slow,” she teased as they both jumped down.

Sending her a mischievous grin, he lifted a chain from the equipment box mounted behind his seat. He slid under the back of her car, and she heard clanking as he wrapped the chain around the axle. More clanking, then a muffled, “What’s it like?”

At first, she didn’t know what he meant. After a few dense seconds, she caught on. “You mean L.A.?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s gorgeous, and there’s always tons of stuff going on, so it’s really exciting to live there. Malibu is breathtaking, looking out over the ocean like that.”

Sliding free, he stood and brushed off his jeans. “I’ve seen it on TV,” he said as he tightened some kind of holder through two of the chain’s links. “Real nice. Is that where you live?”

“Lived,” she corrected him wistfully. “In an adorable beach house a stone’s throw from the water. Until I lost my job and couldn’t pay the rent. Landlords don’t like that.”

Leaning back against her car, John frowned. “I don’t get it. There must be other PR and advertising firms you could have worked for. Why didn’t you stay there and get another job?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

John had echoed the question she’d asked herself hundreds of times while her meticulously plotted life had unraveled around her. That he was standing here with her in the near-darkness, helping with her wrecked car, was the final straw.

After keeping it together for weeks, Amanda burst into tears.

Chapter Three

Even Superman had his weakness, John reasoned as he instinctively took Amanda in his arms. For him, it was a woman’s tears. They always reduced him to a helpless state, where he could think of only one thing: make them stop.

“It’s okay, Panda,” he soothed as she burrowed into his chest. “You’re home now. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

He’d used her old nickname hoping to make her feel better, but it only made her cry harder. She was trying to say something, but between the sniffling and the sobbing, he couldn’t make out a single word. So he stood there like a moron, just holding her, praying she’d blow herself out and calm down enough to tell him what was so wrong.

After a few agonizing minutes, she got herself together, pulling away with a final sniff. When she moved to wipe her cheeks with hands grimy from the tractor, he caught them in his. His intent was to keep her from getting grease all over her face, but the result of his impulsive move hit him like a sucker punch.

Damp cheeks glistening in the sunset, she gazed up at him with a look that was a heart-stopping mix of sorrow and gratitude. She brought to mind a stray kitten who wanted nothing more than to be picked up and cuddled. It would have been so easy to lean in and kiss her, and John came dangerously close to doing just that.

Startled, he stepped back to put some space between them. His arms felt empty without her, but he firmly shoved the impression away and focused on keeping his distance. And his good-guy status.

“Sorry about that,” she murmured. “I know you hate it when girls cry.”

“Most guys do, ’cause we don’t know how to make you stop.”

With a wan smile, she patted his arm. “You did just fine, but if I don’t get that laundry into the drier, no one will have any clean towels tomorrow. We should get this car tucked away.”

“Soon as you tell me what set you off, we’ll go.”

When she hesitated, he folded his arms and waited.

“John, I’m exhausted. Could we please put off the third degree until morning?”

“You’ll tell me everything? No more secrets?”

“Yes.” He cocked his head, and she sighed. “Promise.”

“Okay, then.”

She hadn’t noticed his bizarre reaction to her, John thought while he opened the driver’s door and closed it behind her. As he swung onto the tractor and increased the throttle, he counted himself fortunate to escape with his male dignity intact.

No doubt about it, he still had a very soft spot for Amanda Gardner. He’d have to watch his step.

* * *

John came through the door around six the next morning, drawn by the prospect of breakfast. The sun peeking over the hills was all he needed to get him in gear, but he knew Matt, Ridge and their farmhands would appreciate the coffee already brewing. The stainless-steel, commercial-grade coffeemaker was steaming away, filling one pot on the bottom while another waited on top.

Then he realized something was wrong. The smell wasn’t as strong as usual. When he noticed the pot was filled with mostly water, he got up to remedy the problem.

As he was pulling the container from the cupboard, he heard, “What are you doing?”

Without turning, he pressed the pause button and started scooping grounds into the empty filters. “Adding coffee to your coffee.”

Amanda muttered something very unladylike. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Sorry.”

When he turned to face her, he felt his jaw start to drop and had to remind himself to keep his mouth closed. She’d obviously washed her own clothes last night.

Dressed in faded jeans and a pink tank, she looked like she was ready for a picnic, not a day of housework. Her damp, curly hair was pulled up into a bouncy ponytail, a few stray pieces framing those incredible eyes. The war paint was gone, and her face had that fresh-as-a-daisy quality he’d missed yesterday.

He’d known his fair share of blonde, blue-eyed women, preferred them actually. But none of them had ever matched the one standing only a few feet away. He’d thought his imagination had idealized her over the years, making her seem more beautiful than she’d actually been. Seeing her now proved that he’d remembered every detail of her perfectly.

Amanda was watching him, holding the kids’ lunch boxes in her hands. She didn’t look scared, but she didn’t look confident, either. John knew how she felt. Considering their spontaneous embrace last night, he was beginning to have serious doubts about her staying at the farm.

Seeing her this way wasn’t helping any.